Step by Step
by Telepathapprentice
Summary: Yet another "post-Portal" fanfiction. Chell is ready to head back to human civilization, but with Wheatley accompanying her in a fully human body, she doesn't know how he'll react to...other humans.  Very very post-Combine occupation.
1. The First Step

**Both Wheatley and Chell are fully human, and have managed to incapacitate GLaDOS temporarily so that they can escape the facility. Wheatley has only recently gained his human body. **

**Blanket disclaimer for entire story: I don't own Portal.**

He stumbled out of the shed and tripped on the uneven ground, shaking nervously. Trembling, he sat for a moment on the beaten earth and looked around at his surroundings, uncomfortably taking in the scenery. Finally, his eyes landed on her, and then his vision blurred. Waves of emotion overcame him, and he buried his head in his hands as tears streamed down his face. She left him for a moment, gauging the environment around her, then turned back to find him sobbing uncontrollably. Carefully approaching him, she extended a cautious hand and touched his shoulder.

Flinching spastically, he cowered before her and quieted, staying on the ground before _groveling_ before her, babbling nonsense as he pleaded with her for…something. He clutched at his chest as emotions writhed and coiled inside him, twisting his mind into terrible loops. She stood, surprised for once, and again tried to reassure him, encourage him to stand. The relative silence of his sniffling emboldened her, and she reached toward him again.

Again he recoiled, but stood this time, one hand to his face and another outstretched to force her away. "Leave me!" he screamed. "You don't-you can't need me-just go!"

When she refused to obey he gesticulated frantically, stumbling further away as fresh tears scrubbed away the dust on his face. "You're-stop standing there, just-oh, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, I've done it again-after all that's-please, go!"

The tall stalks of wheat waved around them as they stood, semi-facing each other, his lanky body cowering despite the huge distance between them. Wiping away more tears, he turned to face her and balled his hands as he saw her as resolute as ever.

"Why? You don't need me, don't-you can't want me, after everything-" He looked at her one last time, his frighteningly blue eyes still moist with tears as he looked her in the eyes and read what he saw there. With another hiccupping sob, he followed behind her as she set off along the path, attempting to quiet himself but failing miserably. She trudged on with the resolution of a soldier, looking for anything different about the field she had left only a few days ago.

"And…your body-I hope…I can't hope for anything now, but-bloody hell, is it alright? I have no place to ask, but is it alright? Are you alright?"

She didn't respond, then winced internally as she realized that might not have been the best way to handle him. She was his anchor, his new management rail, although she doubted he realized that yet. She was the only thing keeping him here, his remorse and abject apologies, his…concern. Continuing on, she was unsure on how to deal with his constant mumbling, the refreshed sobbing, the unintelligible babbling he continued to spout, but her concern was more for him than herself. His confusion was only a matter of annoyance to her. It was a maze of unconquerable proportions to him.

She stopped as her feet began to stumble slightly, then frowned as the light above her still shone with the brightness of midday. Turning to face her companion, she watched helplessly as he again knelt before her, re-enacting a pledge of service from a knight to his lord, and again begged for anything she could give him. Her silence, though involuntary, seemed only to drive him away, and he wildly glanced around him before plunging into the wheat field and disappearing from the track. She made a movement to follow him, but saw the futility as he disappeared completely beneath the plants. Surprisingly, for such a tall body he was able to move rather quietly beneath the tall stalks, and she had no indication of what direction he was heading. Away from her was a certainty, but out of fear and need, rather than disgust. The sound of the wind echoed across the golden plain as she helplessly looked across the flat landscape, fruitlessly searching for any sign of him.

-0-0—0-0—0—0—0-00—0-0

Still tripping and stumbling as he ran beneath the shadows of the plants, he reached up to wipe the tears away from his eyes as he blundered on, every mistake he ever made flashing through his head. The core body wasn't this hard, not all these aches and pains, and especially not this pain. He had been classically optimistic at first: the splinter was gone. That crack running down the center of his mind-gone. He was free. Then came the moment of uncertainty. Could he function without the splinter? Could he think? Did he even work properly?

Once assured that he did, then, and only then, came the chemicals. Shooting through his system, making his new heart pound in his ears and his palms sweat, making his eyes tear up and his throat clench. The-the _guilt_, the overarching, unbearable guilt that consumed him and tore him apart, and the only way he could express it was this horrible blubbering mess. Running until his legs gave out beneath him, he tumbled into the mess of plants and cried out pitifully, mumbling to himself as he tried to make some measure of comfort, talking nonsense to himself. Wiping tears from his eyes, he looked up at the sky to see it darkening rapidly, and various noises came into focus around him. Fear gripped him; and with the shock of fear came the need for _her_. And with the need came the pain again, redoubled with his brief moment of rest. Fear and remorse warred within him, and he burrowed into the crushed plants, softly crying himself to a fitful sleep as the stars twinkled overhead.

**If anyone has a better name for this fic, go ahead and throw it my way. First chapters are always perilous.**


	2. The Second Step

She finally found him the next morning, bruised and wrinkled as he curled his lanky body among the makeshift bed of wheat. Every soft exhale caused him to mumble something under his breath, but for once he seemed to be at peace. She again attempted to touch him, and succeeded for a brief moment in placing a hand on his shoulder before he stiffened and literally leapt away from her, tumbling into the wheat. His mouth flew open in a choked scream as he stared at her, too surprised to try to apologize. Finally, he breathlessly exclaimed, "Why?"

She shrugged.

"Y-you came back. You found me, after everything…Why? Why not just leave me to die, alone, friendless…the way it was supposed to be? Why torture me with your…your presence, where I'm constantly reminded…oh, God….I'm sorry, so, so sorry-"

Finally, she cut him off with a firm hand over his mouth, then firmly yanked him up off the ground and pulled him along behind her. He trembled as she continued to touch him, voluntarily helping him, then yanked his hand back.

"I can't, I can't go with you, wherever you're going-I can't! I don't belong-"He began trembling violently again, clutching his sides as if in pain and looking at the ground in anguish. He nearly collapsed to the ground, but she rushed to his side and lifted back up, forcing one arm around her neck. By this time, he had retreated mentally so far that his body followed any basic orders it was given, and it was easy enough to walk/drag him along. With his head bobbing right next to her ear, she could finally make out some of the mumbling but remained impassive as ever, heading for a lump on the horizon. As they approached, it gained definition and became a massive wood structure, collapsed in on itself, about half as high as it had been whole. Dragging him into the shade, she let him flop on the ground and collapsed beside him, exhaustion and sleep deprivation finally catching up to her. Before long, the heat lulled her to sleep, and she balled her fists as frantic dreams ran rampant through her subconscious.

With a start, she jolted awake and felt the warmth of the sun on her arm. Her muddled brain made her sit up, then look around for her companion to find him sitting across from her, the traces of tears still evident on his face. Gesturing weakly, he drew her attention to a small pile of plants gathered in front of him.

"I-I tried my hand at that….scavenging thing you do. I don't know which ones…" He trailed off as she pulled herself up on her hands and knees, ruffling through the foliage to pull out a few with yellow heads. Peeling off three or four leaves, she sniffed them delicately before popping one in her mouth. She extended one to her partner, and he too ate it after a moment's hesitation. Rising, she gestured for him to follow her, and signed for him to leave the results of his foraging. She was glad to note that he followed her eagerly, almost like a sentient puppy, as she scanned the horizon with the help of the midday sun. Suddenly, she pointed at a dark spot on the horizon, rising from the plain around it, and began signing. He grasped her meaning in bits and pieces, but it was enough to accomplish the job. They set off along the path again, the spot growing larger and larger each hour, until she paused and made him look back.

She took in the pleasant vacancy of the plain, with his lanky body the tallest thing around, and watched his face as he scanned the horizon. He didn't speak as they both found the little speck that represented the beginning of their path, but she could see his eyes tearing up as memories flooded his mind. She made a mock salute as they faced their past, then turned and headed for the other dark speck on the horizon. He followed her again, trying to articulate a statement, but his confusion about their destination didn't help. Eventually, she pulled him away from the path and led him to a small stream, showing him how to drink from it and splashed the cool water up her arms and on her face. He watched as she stood, rivulets of water streaming down her arms, and he clenched his hands as he remembered his utter helplessness before her. He couldn't do anything without her, so it seemed. She was so _strong_, so independent…and yet here she was, helping him stumble through this dumb field. Another pang of guilt shot through him as he stood to follow her, and the inevitable tears followed. Trudging along behind her, he tried to conceal his sniffling as they continued on, his anger at his weakness drowned out by the overarching guilt. She ignored the various statements he made, all the times he stumbled or tripped, and let him fend for himself, docilely following behind her.

As the sun set again, he looked up in wonder to observe the subtle changes in color as the sky faded from bright blue to dusky twilight. He stumbled again as the road beneath his feet changed from packed dirt to rough asphalt, and he recovered enough to stand beside his guide as she looked through the rough dark shapes. Suddenly, she turned to duck into a shape that solidified into a house, and he had to duck even further to follow. She waved vaguely in the darkness, and his eyes eventually adjusted to find a sort of padding stuffed into one corner and pulled a piece off to stuff into another corner. Once he was satisfied, he looked back to see her with two tin cans, one in her hands and another on the floor before her. He cautiously approached and took the tin on the floor, using two fingers to spoon the clumpy substance into his mouth. As he ate, he noticed the ache in his stomach fading, and he happily finished the rest of the tin. She smiled at him as he set the tin aside, then he stood and gestured to the two piles of padding he had fashioned.

"I know it's not quite like a normal bed, but I hope it'll do-y'know what, I don't even need a…a bed, now that I think of it, you'd probably be good with all the bedding, let me just put it back-"

She stopped him by shoving him onto his pile and happily claiming her own. He tried to find an adequate response, but the absolute darkness made it hard for him to properly talk to her, and for her to respond he would need light to see her signs.

"So, um…good night, then. Good night-Chell."

Cold despite the relative warmth of their small shelter, he curled up on the springy fluff and tried to sleep. The steady sound of her breathing soon filled the small room, and he lay there wide-eyed as his mind raced in the darkness.


	3. The Third Step

She fought against both the dream and her waking mind as her tired body craved more sleep. However, once semi-conscious she could hear a familiar sniffling noise, and she looked up to see the other bed bathed in soft moonlight. It took a moment before she connected the scene to the noise, and she found her companion staring out a makeshift window, occasionally wiping new tears from his eyes. Silently she stole closer to him, and her heart sank as she realized what he was looking at. The nearly full moon, beaming down through the night, fell directly through one of the holes in the buildings' wall, and with it came the inevitable shared memory. A movement caught her eye and she watched him as his hands clenched, then curled closer to him. He kept his eyes open as long as possible, but finally he bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut against the onrush of tears. His sniffles grew into sobs, punctuated by a mantra of "-sorry sorry so sorry I'm sorry please-" under his breath. She came even closer to him and wrapped her arms around his shivering form, laying her head on his. His initial response was to tense up, but he let her keep him there as he cried into his hands, abandoning words altogether. Finally, she felt him relax, as he fell into the first real sleep he had had in his new body.

**Short chapter now, ****long chapter later.**


	4. The Fourth Step

He awoke with the rising of the sun to find her asleep on her own bed, curled into what he recognized as the fetal position. Memories of what had happened during the night faded in the morning sun, but he still watched her suspiciously as he rose and checked outside the entrance to their little shelter. Seeing little signs of life, he returned to search for food in the area she had gotten their dinner from. He pulled two suspicious-looking packages from the corner of the room, taking extra care not to wake her with the noise of the paper. He arranged the small gift before the door, then stepped out and took a deep breath.

He had slept. He had eaten, bathed, walked, _breathed_ in this body now. It was his body. The only thing he could call his, anymore. He considered taking a walk around the small outpost, but glanced back and determined to stay by Chell, protecting her from…anything. Settling for a small pace back and forth in front of the house, he looked anxiously in the direction they had been heading before falling asleep. He could see nothing of hope, nothing to encourage his companion to her extreme pace.

On cue, she poked her head out of the wooden shelter to look at him with quiet appreciation, extending a biscuit from the packages he had found. He approached her equally as quiet, nibbling timidly at the new food while she ducked back inside. She emerged with several more similar packages, handing some off to him while she balanced the others in one arm.

"Hey, listen, I don't mean to question your judgment or anything, but where are we going exactly? I don't see anything…" She replied with a brisk stroll past him and back onto the road, quickly taking them out of the ramshackle town and back into rolling, empty fields. Once the town had diminished behind them, she turned abruptly and knelt by the road. He crouched beside her, gathering the few packages she had dropped, and watched as she lifted the relic into the air. A metal sign, sawed off at one end, showed only a large white arrow, pointed resolutely in the direction they were going.

"Civilization. Other humans-people. Other people."

She nodded.

"So, how did you find this, I mean…it's pretty brilliant." He gathered more of the crinkly packages so that she could sign an answer, and seeing his actions, she decided to tell the full story. After the initial story came the inevitable questions, then more explanation and more story-telling. He seemed content to carry the full load of their stores, and she led them to a secluded glade to spend the next night. It passed without incident, and eventually their days passed into a single progressive journey, Chell educating him on human society and all the minor intricacies that he missed while 'caring' for the test subjects. Basics like privacy, interaction, politeness, friendship…hope. The last one kept him up for some time, thinking long into the night just as if he had had a robot body, but eventually he realized that the pain in his head was directly related to the amount of sleep he got the night before. Eventually they both reached the unspoken pact to never reference Aperture, or Her, or anything related to that Place. Again, he had some trouble, seeing as he could remember nothing beyond the Enrichment Center, and, he argued, neither could her. The glare in her eyes was enough to shut him up for the moment, but eventually she responded with the answer that his life had started from the moment he had stepped out of that shed. Tears welled up in his eyes again for unknown reasons, but he nodded his head in understanding. As they approached their eventual destination, he remained mostly buoyantly optimistic, appearing not to notice their diminishing food sources, but instead focusing on the new object of interest: the blob on the horizon that was rapidly growing bigger.

They were so close now that at night they could see the lights from the city shining out into the darkness. One particular night, he persuaded her to continue on past nightfall, continually heading for the lights, and kept her awake with his ready stream of chatter. In the middle of his sentence, however, a huge, creaking noise was heard, and both of them froze, alert. The ground rumbled beneath them, when suddenly a huge metal arm swept Wheatley off his feet, scattering the food packets among the dirt. Chell looked up in horror as various lights flickered to life, outlining a huge metal creature, malevolently staring down at the pair. With well-trained reflexes, she was able to avoid the foot of the creature as it tried to wipe her out, bruising and scraping her with every near miss. Wheatley stood, helpless, as she tried to dodge the huge behemoth, then hit the dirt as an arm again came flailing around to pummel him. It plowed up the ground behind him as he copied Chell's movements, the metal managing to land several good blows in addition to aiming giant drills at his head. Suddenly, all arms twisted away from him to bat Chell as if she were a plaything, and Wheatley found himself crying out.

"Chell!"

A low thudding sound boomed through the air, and the metal thing turned to face the city. Another boom resounded, and the lights of the creature suddenly flickered out again. One last boom caused it to fall crashing to the ground, disposed of all resources. Crying with fear and relief, Wheatley hurried to Chell's side, only to find her unconscious.

"No, no nononononono, you have to be awake. Chell! Chell, please! Wake up! Hello? Hello? Oh, please, Chell-" Desperation in his voice, he looked up fruitlessly to find help, then decided the best option would be to head for the city. He awkwardly picked up the limp woman, gingerly holding her just enough to keep her in his arms, then set off at a quick, desperate pace towards the lights of the city, his hope fading fast in the dark night.

**Not my best. L-Let's just say that.**


	5. The Fifth Step

"What was that?"

"Another one. Second this year."

"Didja feel the thud when it hit?"

"I did, but I can't speak for anyone else. Barely rattled the dishes, it did."

"All the tales of the old times, 'creatures of the outside'…I'm surprised they didn't stick us in domes there and then."

"Creatures, pfft. The only creatures we had to worry about were the Xen, and those disappeared long ago."

"But the machines still remain. And no one's dared enter that plain for generations."

"Superstition. There might be a good reason for avoiding the 'heathen wilderness', but believe me, someday-"

"Anyone!" The tall, lanky man crashed through the door, bleeding from a cut above his eye. However, the two seated at the table were more concerned for the young woman he held in his arms, and rushed to help her.

"Siddown here, son." One grizzled occupant came to take Chell from his arms, while the other led the bruised young man to the table. "Looks like you've been through the wars. What's your name?"

"W-wheatley. Just Wheatley."

"Well, I'm Gordon, and the one with your young friend is Riley. What happened to the two of ya?"

"Something….huge. Metal. Out-out there."

"You mean…the war machines? You met up with one of those? Good Lord, Wheatley, you're lucky to be alive."

"If you say so." Swallowing nervously, Wheatley's head dipped as the adrenaline surge faded. "Could I have-have a glass of water? Please?"

"Oh my, here I am telling you about your luck, and you're dying on my kitchen table. Here, here's your water-" With a deft movement, Gordon handed the tired man a full glass. "and let me take a look at those scratches. Never know what those beasties are carryin' out there."

"Carrying?" Wheatley winced as the older man probed the large scratch above his eye.

"Been lyin' there for years, some of 'em. Tetanus, cholera, Black Plague…who knows what microbes grow in those abandoned fields. Good Lord!"

Gordon's eyes widened as he saw the huge scratch along Wheatley's side, along with the patch of missing shirt. "How are you still moving, boy?"

"I don't…quite-" Exhausted, Wheatley collapsed onto the table and fell asleep, his breathing ragged as Gordon began to sterilize the major wounds. Salve was applied to the numerous bruises, and finally the wounds were bandaged and Wheatley was carried upstairs.

"How's his friend, Riley? Pretty banged up?"

"Got a concussion, but nothing fatal. Got the typical scratches and bruises, but most ended up on her legs and arms. She might have something internal, though, judging by the bruises on her side…I'd take them both in to actual doctors in the morning. Met with a machine, did they?"

"So you heard. Yep. Wandered out into the fields, got on the bad side of a junker, and were lucky enough to avoid it long enough for the city to incapacitate it."

"Curious."

"We live on the outskirts, Riley. Everything's curious out these ways."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-00-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

He tossed and turned in the unfamiliar shape of the bed, worry about his traveling companion filling most of his dreams. Finally he slept soundly, his body restoring his injured muscles and skin, before the sun streamed in through the window and woke him. An attempt to sit up ended badly when a bruise on his elbow incapacitated his arm, but soon Gordon arrived and pulled him rather brusquely from the cushions.

"Glad to see you up, kid. At least one of you can have some of my famous pancakes."

"One?" Wheatley's blood ran cold, an expression he had never understood until now, and he turned wildly to face Chell's temporary room. "W-What do you mean?"

"Whoa, whoa, calm down, she's fine. Sleepin' it off, that's all. Riley thinks she's got a concussion."

"A-A trauma-induced change in mental status with or without a brief loss of consciousness."

"Yeah, something like that. Say, how'd you happen to know something like that?"

"Um…just picked it up. What am I wearing?

"You're wearing the trousers you came in, sport, but the shirt is one of mine. Too small, anyway-glad it could be put to some use."

"Pancakes….is that breakfast?"

"Yep, and it's what you're smellin' right now. Follow me." Gordon led the injured man down the steps and into the nook of the kitchen, handing him a plate with three pancakes stacked high atop it.

"Had a nephew looked like you once. His mother could never keep up with his appetite, so I figured you'd be the same." Wheatley didn't respond, his attention focused solely on the plate before him. Soon, after he learned how to use the fork, he was shoveling down bite after bite, only pausing to ask Gordon for another drink of water. Five pancakes later, he finally stood and cleared away his dishes, stuffing them into what he assumed was the sink, based on the number of other dishes stacked there.

"So, my friend…Riley thinks she'll be alright?"

"Yeah, but I'll be taking the both of you to Doctor Lawrence today, just to make sure. Riley decided to head on home last night, but he told me not to wake your friend too fast. I-I'd probably let you handle that…she might react violently if she finds a stranger trying to get her out of bed."

"She might react violently anyways." Wheatley muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, nothing…listen, I think I'll wake her up now, if you don't mind…get an early start and all that."

"Good, good. Lawrence lives in the middle city, so it might be awhile before she has time to see you, but either way, I'd try to get some food into your lady friend."

Reluctantly, Wheatley headed back up the stairs and knocked cautiously at the door where Chell was sleeping. When no answer came, he took a deep breath and opened the unlocked door, finding her still asleep on the bed.

She looked so peaceful, curled up among the sheets like she had used them her whole life. He cleared his throat again, emotions swirling about his head like leaves in a storm, and knelt beside the head of the bed to reach eye level with her.

"Chell? Chell-" he whispered. "We reached it. We're here, with other humans-people. You're in a house, I got you here, we're safe, and we're going to see a doctor….please don't punch me when you wake up." Reluctantly, he poked her shoulder, eliciting a faint moan. "Pleasepleaseplease wake up, please, Chell-"

"Reluctant, is she?" Gordon appeared in the doorway, forcing the door open. "I know she may have a concussion, but trust me, this is the best way to get her up and at 'em."

He rapidly pulled a small bell from his pocket and rang it quickly, filling the small room with the metallic noise, causing Wheatley to fall away from the bed with his hands clapped over his ears. "Don't, Gordon, don't, please-"

Both were cut off by Chell's sudden jolt out of the bed, and she turned to look at Gordon apprehensively. He waved and smiled, then gestured to Wheatley who was still in the fetal position.

"Oh. You're up. Nice job, Gordon, nice job…I guess it worked." He stood self consciously, brushing off imaginary dust, and extended a hand to help her from the bed.

"I don't know if you heard, Chell, but Gordon-this guy-is going to take us to a doctor. Unless you want breakfast first, of course. Or if you want to…freshen up, or whatever you do…" He trailed off as she strolled over to Gordon and followed him out the door, heading for the pancakes below.

"Talkative one, isn't he?" Gordon whispered to her as Wheatley followed behind, and she smiled warmly. Once in the kitchen, she took a moment to sign to him that she couldn't talk, and he only nodded and smiled. "The mute-pardon me-the silent one and the chatterbox. You two are quite a couple."

She gestured frantically as her eyes widened, practically shouting that they were _not_, in fact, a couple. Gordon simply nodded and handed her a plate of food, leaving her to make her way to the table. Wheatley remained by the stairs, watching her, and Gordon came to stand beside him.

"Does she have a name, your lady friend?"

"Chell."

"Just Chell. Like you're just Wheatley?"

"Yeah. Like that."

"Doctor Lawrence won't be happy about that. Play havoc with her files, it will."

"Once the doctor sees us, would we be…free to leave? Somewhere else, somewhere beyond…here?"

"Leave the city? Is my hospitality that bad?"

"What? Oh, no no no, I'm _more _than thankful-"

"Joking, Wheatley, just joking. Sure, the tube leaves once a week from the inner city. Have to get a ticket, of course, but it's possible."

"A ticket? With money, by working a job?"

"'Course. How else would you get money?"

"Um….do you know where I can get a job?"

"Maybe. I can check around."

Chell stood, placing her plate beside Wheatley's, and nodded at Gordon. He led the pair of them out to a rustic car, hidden in a dank garage, and the three of them got in. The ride was short, but Wheatley managed to cover weather, speed, their destination, and the person they were about to meet all within the confines of their journey. Once at the sterile looking office, Wheatley and Gordon escorted Chell inside and waited for the doctor to arrive.


	6. The Sixth Step

Though seated, Wheatley was still nervous, looking about him at the perfectly white walls and harsh lights as though they were about to jump out at him; considering his other experiences with bright lights and white panels, his twitchiness was rather expected. He nudged Chell several times and whispered his nervous expectations to her, but she simply rolled her eyes and signed to him.

"Civilization. People. Right."

"Ah! Gordon, and friends. Nice to see you." A tall woman exited a nearby hallway and smiled at the motley trio, putting Wheatley slightly more on edge. "I'll see the young lady first-"

"Chell."

"Chell?"

"Yes. A-And I'm Wheatley."

"Alright, well, 'Chell', if you'll follow me I'll take some stats and see how you're doing."

She escorted the calm woman into another room, and soon returned for the fidgeting Wheatley.

"Mr. Wheatley? If you'll follow me as well…"

"Mr. Wheatley, hmm? I like that. Like the sound of it, rolls off your tongue…do I look like a Mr. Wheatley, Doctor Lawrence?"

She kept quiet for a moment, leading him into a small exam room, then responded.

"Well, at the moment, you look like a patient, and this-" She suddenly jabbed a small needle into his exposed forearm. "Is what I do with patients."

"AH bloody heck, that hurts! What'd you have to go and do that for, oh bloody-that hurts!"

"Just taking a blood sample, Mr. Wheatley." She withdrew the full vial from his arm, and stuck it into a small machine on the desk beside her. After a few warming thrums and the requisite beep, the doctor scanned a small display screen and turned back to Wheatley. " You seem to be clean-Gordon does a good job of his work. A bit malnourished, but otherwise you're in superb physical condition. I'm keeping your friend for a bit-"

"What!"

"In order to clean a few remaining pathogens from her system. Some of her scratches went pretty deep, but fortunately there's nothing internally wrong with her. Won't take more than an hour, I promise you. Let me lead you back to the waiting room."

"That was a waiting room?"

"I thought it was, as in, you know, the room where you…wait."

"Oh. Oh right, bloody obvious, that one, can't see how I missed it. So, what about our…bruises, and all that?"

"Those won't be leaving anytime soon, I can guarantee, but your friend-Chell-did have a concussion. Gordon tells me you know something of physical ailments?"

"Oh, well-" He blushed self-consciously. "I used to take care of-people. Care for them. Monitor them."

"Where was this?"

"Um…nowhere, really-you know what, how is she doing, though, really?"

"She'll need lots of fluids the next few days, no strenuous activity…As for you, it seems you'll be fine after everything blows over. But you will have a nice scar on your side….really appeal to the ladies, there."

"Ah…" He blushed again. "Does she have any…permanent damage?"

"She did have some strange pressure marks on her legs-I don't know what would cause them, far out of my expertise-"

"Binding? L-Like any kind of weird boots, clamped to her feet?"

"Yeah, yeah, that could cause it. Would you happen to know anything about that?"

"Me? Oh, nononono, nothing about that. Good ol' Wheatley doesn't know a thing about mystery lady."

"Except her name, is that it?"

"Well, she told me that bit. Really…really quite nice of her, actually."

"Gordon also mentioned that you needed a job."

"Well, yeah, not anything _urgent_, really, just something to get us-to get _me_ started, that's it, maybe get a train…somewhere…keep me going."

"Would you consider working for me?"

"For-for you!"

"Yes. My current secretary is on maternity leave-has to go in the next week or two. Would you mind filling in, smoothing out the office until you get a better offer?"

"Really? You want me?"

"You seem energetic enough to keep up with me, and that's saying something. And besides, it's one of the least strenuous jobs out there. Don't want you damaging Gordon's patch-up on your ribcage there. Please consider it."

"I'm no good with talking to people-would be a total flop up front-"

"That's fine, I really need someone to help out with filing anyway."

"I lose things."

"So do I."

"Mess things up."

"Same here."

"Set them on fire."

"Can honestly say I've never done that one. There was one time in medical school when I froze someone's arm, but not fire."

"You still want me?"

"I think you can do it. What do you say?"

"I say…I say yes, if I have a mode of transportation. I don't know how-"

"And enter the wonderful Gordon Washington!" Gordon stood with arms wide and looked at Wheatley. "I'd be happy to take you, Wheatley, and I'll be indebted to you, Doctor Lawrence, for taking him on. I can stay at the house and take care of your friend during the day-on one condition."

"What?"

"You let me get Chinese on Tuesdays. Every Tuesday, no exceptions."

"What day is it today?"

"Wednesday."

"I-I guess."

"Cheer up, boy, don't look so down! I'm joking with you…although I was serious about the Chinese. Maybe eventually you'll be able to drive yourself to and fro, and I can stay at the house while you run my errands."

"You would let me do all that?"

"'Course, kid."

"But-But you hardly know me! You can't trust me…I could be a-a con man, or a mass murderer, for all you know!"

"Nah. You talk too much for that."

"Gordon's an outer city man, Wheatley. He's too trusting for his own good."

"Never hurt me yet, Doctor. Is…Chell ready yet?"

"Not quite. There were some nasty bugs in her system, and her lungs seemed rather raw and scarred. Wheatley's bruises will disappear faster, but with rest, she'll soon be at the same point he is, physically." With a small smile, she turned to Wheatley again. "So, Mr. Wheatley…how do you feel about blood?"

"Blood? Ah-that red stuff inside me-us, I mean us-yeah. That's blood, so…it's alright, I guess. Keeps us functional, I think."

"You wouldn't happen to, say, retain an irrational fear of blood, or get squeamish, or anything of the sort?"

"What? No, no, of course not. That's crazy. Who would be afraid of…blood?"

"That's good to hear. Anything else I should know about you before I prepare you a desk?"

His face stopped her from proceeding further. "A-A desk? An actual desk, with paper and pens and one of those flat bits for the computers and a name tag-" He gasped. "A name tag! Oh, man alive, do I get a name tag? Or badge, or plate, or…something? Wait, let me back up: a desk? I actually get a desk?"

Both the doctor and Gordon watched Wheatley curiously as he rambled, and as he finished, he looked back at them with eager eyes. Slowly, Doctor Lawrence replied. "Why the fuss? Of course you'll have a desk, Mr. Wheatley. You won't have a name tag for the first week or two, but you'll need a security badge to stay after hours. That reminds me: when you come in tomorrow, I'll give you a tour of the facility and test your medical knowledge. If you prove capable, you'll work alongside one of our nurses for the first week, then you'll take over for Ivy when she leaves."

"Oh. O-Okay, I think I can do that-"

"Don't worry, Wheatley, I'll drive you tomorrow, wish you luck, make you breakfast. All that good stuff." Gordon nodded at the younger man.

"Thank you, Mr. Gordon, really-thank you-"

"Don't start, Wheatley. I'm learning that you never stop."

"Oh. Sorry, sorry-"

"Hey, doc, can I get Chell home yet? The two of them woke up pretty late, so their sleeping patterns are 'slightly askew'. They had pancakes for lunch. Well, brunch, but-"

"Of course, Gordon. I'll go fetch her now."

The doctor strolled away with a click of her heels, leaving an amazed Wheatley staring up at the facility around him.

"I could work…here, actually work, with a real job, and real people! Don't you realize, Gordon, this is fantastic, I can do it, I really can!" The returning sound of the doctor's heels brought Wheatley's focus back to the small hallway where Chell was emerging. Her tired face looked back up at him with a smile, like always, and he found it easier to smile back this time. She went to Gordon's side, and the doctor handed Wheatley a slip of paper with an address and waved him goodbye.

**I rather surprised myself with how fast things are moving. Also, sorry for the long wait. (Yay for spring break.)**


	7. The Seventh Step

"Take care of her, Gordon. Lots of rest and fluids."

"Gotcha, Doc. C'mon, Wheatley, lets head home."

"Home?"

"Yeah. You and Chell'll be staying with me, until you decide to leave this poor old codger. You can stay in the rooms you had last night."

"H-How-we can't pay you, I'll have to take a rain check-"

"No, no charge. I need more company, and it'll be useful havin' a boy like you to help me fend off the wilderness."

"Well, I-I really don't have a strong point in the area of…wilderness-ing-"

"The way you talk, one would think you don't have a strong point in anything."

"I don't."

"We'll see about that." Exiting the office, Gordon escorted Chell into the car and left Wheatley to clamber in beside her. Once they were on their way, Gordon resumed the conversation.

"But as long as you're working for Lawrence, the little lady can help me around the house. It's a big place for someone like me, and Riley's been encouraging me to get some help managing it. My family doesn't visit as much as they used to, so my motivation to keep the place sparkling is next to nil."

"You're sure you'd let me-teach me to drive this thing?"

"Well, I'd like to think I'm a good teacher. You'll pick it up in a trice."

"Well…" Wheatley grew contemplative, staring out the window silently, and Gordon kept the peaceful silence. Chell glanced over in amazement at the usually chatty core, who, since becoming human, seemed to be almost…hesitant to speak. He also seemed hesitant to initiate any sort of physical contact, only doing so when she was in danger or in need. Even when she casually brushed his hand he would stiffen and back away, although it had lessened as they had traveled. He had picked up the basics of human social customs, and Gordon hadn't noticed anything amiss, but he still seemed awkward, uncomfortable. His lanky frame didn't help, and she silently made a note of gratitude that Gordon didn't collect fine china. In the outdoors, his accident-prone body didn't make much of a problem, besides countless scrapes and bruises, but here in the city…Accidents. Bad decisions. Hand-in-hand, the thoughts popped into her mind.

The city outside blurred as tears formed in her eyes, and she reprimanded herself for such a silly reaction. Why was she crying? Numerous emotions flooded through her, and she slowly contemplated each one.

Moron. Idiot. Imbecile. Failure. She had taken GLaDOS's taunts well, knowing them to be mostly untrue or inconsequential. But he started out with a fragile ego, and those taunts leveled at him drove him to extremes. She pitied him, really, he had nothing to cling to, except-

Her. Back to her again. He relied on her, needed her, begged her forgiveness over and over as the memories of his actions tortured him. She remembered those times too, the confusion of testing under _him_, facing the closest thing she had to a friend in aggressive combat. Hot anger boiled up in her, some part of her begging to lunge and rip out his throat, but as the duo had traveled together, her pity and desire to help him in turn forced away that violence.

Ah. Pity. Now there was a fun subject. She had never been the subject of pity. GLaDOS never touched on it. Wheatley hardly understood it, let alone considered it. Most humans would have hated being the subject of pity-especially the pity she held towards Wheatley. But if he knew she pitied him…he would probably simply ignore it. Take it as a sign that she didn't need him. Find another reason to turn away from her.

She didn't need him. She didn't. That was a fact, but her brain shied away from such cold reasoning. Heartless, emotionless…just like _Her_. Yes, he was cumbersome, and probably a hindrance, but what could he truly hurt? She didn't have anything in this new world, except him, and there was nothing for him to ruin or mess up. But that just brought her back to the original subject. GLaDOS had said he was designed for failure; the perfect moron. But he had managed to get her to safety, even while he was dazed from the attack outside the city. He was human now…but what did that mean? She glanced at him again, watching him watching the city, and realized again his quietness. The organic aspect must be calming somehow, counteracting that part of him that demanded constant chatter. Maybe he was thinking too, maybe for the first time in his life, thinking in electrical and chemical pulses instead of strings of data. He may have been useless, with no obvious skill except to hinder any progress, but he was undeniably human now. He had gained her capacity to learn, to grow, to expand beyond whatever fiendish programming had enslaved him in the depths of Aperture.

The realization that there was a human inside her adversary was one thing; but she still couldn't tell if Wheatley was just another AI, or part of Aperture's early attempts at human digitizing. As a Personality Core, he would have been designed with two purposes: a direct task (produce noise, ideas, filler, _anything_) and a personality. And what were humans if not the same? Task: Survival. Personality: Well, that was fairly obvious. Personality. He was conceivably as normal as Gordon or Doctor Lawrence.

Returning to the present, Chell stretched as Gordon pulled the car into the rough driveway and the trio exited simultaneously. The two younger people followed their caretaker into the house, and Chell glanced at Wheatley, prompting the usual brief responding glance, then furtive glance away.

"Well, I've let you two clever-clogs ruminate all the way home, but now we've got to get down to business. And by 'business' I mean 'planning'. There won't be much to do today, but a basic schedule should be drawn up. Can't live without a schedule. Chell, this is a tad extraneous for you, seeing as you'll be spending your time in bed-"

A slight rattle sounded as she slammed her hand on the nearby table, shaking her head.

"Oh, yes you are, missy. You heard what the doctor said, and it'll help you recover much faster. You gotta rest."

Another vehement shake.

"No. You are going to march up there, get in bed, and sleep until you're fitter than a set of stim shots."

"L-listen, Chell, I think he's right. The doctor did say you should rest, and recover."

She simply shook her head again and gestured to the window. She pantomimed running, breathing…in a word, living.

"I know, miss, it's no fun being cooped up, but it's for the best. You need to stay in here. You've had a nasty shock."

"Please, Chell, he's right. You know he is. Even without the walking, you've had-quite a nasty shock. Even if you don't think you need it mentally…you do, that's all I can see. No reason to listen to me, little Wheatley here, but Chell, please-I know what…you've been through. You need it. I-I know."

She repressed a curious eyebrow raise as he stated this fact, as he usually preferred to beat around the issue at hand rather than make a definitive statement. Without referencing Aperture, he pleaded with her, and she could see the need in his eyes, the need for her to be healthy. Slowly, she found herself nodding, the repressed memories bubbling to the surface, all the things she had done, had pushed herself through-Yes. She needed a break.

"You never slow down, Chell, dragging my sorry self all the way here….you know, all the other things you've done. You don't slow down, and you need to. Please. Be safe."

She nodded again, turning slowly to situate herself upstairs. Gordon simply smiled at Wheatley and shook his head.

"Well, boy, you managed to get her up there. Heck, you managed to persuade a woman-and a very stubborn woman-to do something she didn't want to. I'd call that a skill."

"It's nothing really, just….persuasion." A queer look came over his face. "She's stubborn?"

"Yep. With another word, resilient. She's strong, Wheatley-hold onto her. She needs you-"

"No she doesn't. You just said: she's strong. Strong enough to survive without little old me."

"No, see, that's the thing. She locks herself away-has for a while now, by the looks of it-and no one and nothing can draw her out of her mental hidey hole. But you, Wheatley, you can. She wants to stay with you-"

"No she doesn't! I'm a burden to her, just in the way, hindering, not helping. I always have. It's what I was pro-what I was good at. She doesn't need me."

"Doesn't need you, maybe, but she wants you around. Don't ask me to explain the minds of women, kid, but she likes you. Maybe bad blood's come between you in the past, maybe you had a little row, maybe you even called her fat, but she chose you to come with her. She dragged you this far."

"She did. Yes, Gordon, she dragged me this far, but I don't deserve it. I don't deserve anything, least of all from her. I can only try to make it up to her-help her, maybe even help support her-"

Gordon simply chuckled and shook his head, walking into the kitchen and pulling out two mugs.

"Cocoa or whiskey?"

"Um…it's only three o'clock."

"So what? I'm not doing anything important today."

"Cocoa, I guess." Wheatley watched carefully as the older man prepared the drinks, then hurried to pull out two chairs from the breakfast nook in order to sit. "Why cocoa? The sun's shining away out there, seems pretty balmy to me."

"I'm a firm believer in anytime cocoa. It belongs anytime, anywhere, anywhen. Drink up, and I'll try to explain how society works."

"What!"

"At least how –ahem-social interaction between you and your companion seems to be ensuing." Gordon smiled at Wheatley to put him more at ease, then looked into the distance contemplatively.

"It's called forgiveness, Wheatley. She forgave you, and though you may feel guilty about it, there's nothing you can or could ever do to earn any forgiveness. She forgave you of her own free will-I can see it when she looks at you. You make her smile. She's happy to be with you, whatever you do."

"But I can't just…ignore what happened."

"She's happy to ignore it. Just…spend time with her. Learn about her. Study her."

"Like an experiment? Isn't that unusual for…human society?"

"No, it's…ah, Wheatley, it's hard to explain!" Sighing, Gordon smoothed back his hair and glanced at his companion. "All I can recommend is that you spend time with her. You're human. She's human. You've survived each other's company so far. After work, or whatever, come here, ditch this old codger and talk with her. I can even show the two of you around town, give you some good places to sit and talk. I know you're probably not thinking of romancing her, but friendship can be better than any other love. As long as you stick around to eat dinner with me, the two of you can go wherever you want."

"But she…you know, doesn't really go in for the whole…talking bit. I'm the talker, really. Ol' Chatterbox, me; she usually goes in for the stoic, placid glare. She appreciates the direct approach. I don't know how-"

"You'll learn, Wheatley, you'll learn real fast. She's a good teacher, and you're a good learner. That motion thing she does with her hands? Soon the two of you will be holding conversations and I'll be stuck on 'Good morning, Chell'."

"Alright…so this whole forgiveness bit-"

"Just accept it. It is what it is, and there's nothing you can do but appreciate it."

"I-I'll try."

"Good."

Wheatley paused, considering this, but soon looked back at Gordon.

"What can you tell me about 'hope'?"


	8. The Eighth Step

Gordon chuckled as Wheatley tripped up the stairs to the office of Doctor Lawrence, and gunned the engine as he turned to head back to the house. His face fell into a comfortable smile as he mentally wished the youngster good luck, then remembered the young woman back at the house. What would she do all day? Doctor Lawrence surely couldn't expect a young, energetic person like that to sit in bed all day-but despite what he had told Wheatley, he didn't have that much of an active calendar.

As he pulled into the driveway, he glanced at the dashboard and remembered he had to teach Wheatley how to drive. _That _would certainly be an adventure. Gordon opened the side door and entered the house to find no signs of life, no sounds to evidence that Chell was awake, and he quietly approached her bedroom door to knock softly at it. He cracked the door open to see her still asleep on the vanilla bed, the sheets bunched in her hands, then backed away to close the door again. The pair of them made him chuckle: the nervous Brit, stumbling over his own two feet and as socially inept as a hermit, while the ably competent Chell deflected any resistance or hinderance, be it social or physical. She reminded him of the daughter he might have had; she shared his silent mannerisms, although probably out of necessity more than preference, and she preferred the direct approach to anything else. They would get on well together, if he could find anything for them to do.

He mixed himself a morning cup of cocoa, looking out the window to gauge whether he could begin work on a garden. It would give the pair of them a low-impact activity-but the weather was still too cold. Especially as far north as they were, cold snaps would freeze off any growth.

A noise from above roused him, and he heard water running upstairs. Soon after, Chell appeared cautiously on the stairs, barefoot.

"Ah! Sleeping Beauty awakes."

She smiled uncomfortably at him, then gestured to the empty kitchen.

"Um…are you asking what we're gonna do today? Because I honestly have no plan. No agenda, no schedule, no nothin'. Wheatley and I-"

He was cut short by a sudden short gasping noise, and he worriedly looked over to see her doubled over. However, as she rose, he saw a huge smile on her face, and a relieved smile mirrored it on his own.

"What are you laughing at? C'mon, you can tell me."

She shook her head, a grin still on her face, as she looked at her situation. All that time of being trapped in a testing track, no freedom for improvisation or creativity-and now here she was, wondering what she should do today while Gordon tried to explain that Wheatley couldn't come up with a schedule.

"Fine, if you won't tell me, then tell me what you'd like for breakfast-" He was peeved to be cut off again by her swift dash to his cupboards, and he simply watched her open each door. "Don't know what you might find in there, missy. You can't just go around…opening people's cupboards like that!"

She ignored him, pulling down a box from a higher shelf.

"Grits? Ration food? Why on earth-" Yet again, he was forced to stand silently as she outlined that yes, she wanted these, and she wanted these every morning.

"But then I can't have _fun_ with it! I can't teach Wheatley to make eggs Benedict, or English Toast, or-or bacon!"

She shrugged. *_He'll eat it*_

"But-you need something more substantial to recover from…whatever it was you faced."

A shake of the head was his only reply.

"Fine. Next item of business?"

She pointed to her left wrist and made a question mark in the air.

"Right now? It's nearing ten. Wheatley and Doctor Lawrence had me take a tour of the office with them…there's a clock over the cooler box."

Glancing upwards, she looked incredulously at the time and signed another question.

"If you were sleeping the entire time I was gone, yeah, you've been asleep for almost sixteen hours."

She smiled and shook her head. Signing some numbers to him, she pointed to the hint of sky visible outside the window.

"Midnight walks are discouraged around here, darlin', but since it was only to your window and back, I'll let it slide." He smiled reassuringly. "Any more questions?"

A slight blush tinted her cheeks and she tugged at the orange jumpsuit she still wore, then pointed to her feet.

"Oh. Well. That is a good question. I've given Wheatles some of my older shirts-don't quite fit, but they'll do. My niece might have some things left here, for her visits-they're rare, but she would be lost without extra clothing. If you don't mind wearing men's clothes, I think I can scrounge up some old jeans my son used to wear. I can cut the legs down to size, if you need them." She smiled gratefully and signed her thanks. "Yeah, have to take the pair of you shopping soon, when you're feeling better. Oh! I nearly forgot! None of us noticed yesterday, but Doctor Lawrence gave me strict instructions-well, that's up for debate-but you need an appropriate bathing area. Follow me!"

He lead her back upstairs, then pointed out a room close to hers, but further down the hall. "You'll use that bathroom, which has a shower in it. The door after that one's my bedroom, and Wheatley has the room across the hall from you. We didn't have a chance to show you the grand tour yesterday."

She smiled again, and stood awkwardly in the hall as she tried to word her next request.

"Also-soap. I've got some antibacterials left over somewhere here…Lawrence said this would be just the stuff for your scrapes and things. Wheatley's was a bit worse-should have heard his screech this morning-but I can run out and get you more later. If you want to take one now…I'll go get those jeans of my sons. Any clothing of my nieces' should be in the bottom drawer of your room set, there." He fished out a cake of soap and handed it to her, turning to go down the steps.

She followed his instructions and combed her room, finding a few faded t-shirts and a small pair of jeans. Frowning, she held the jeans up to her waist and decided to leave them in the drawer, seeing as they barely reached her ankles. It was a bit awkward, standing there in the unfamiliar place, preparing to stand naked in a stranger's bathroom, but she hopped in and relaxed.

The dust of weeks melted off, and she didn't move for a long time, simply breathing in the humid steam. No more adrenal vapor, no more kerosene smell or the sweat of desperation. Finally, she remembered the cake Gordon had handed her and peeled away the protective covering. The powerful clean smell of it hit her strong, and she spent a moment savoring it. She quickly scrubbed herself down, then reached out instinctively to find a fluffy towel exactly where she expected it to be. Pulling on a t-shirt, she put on the jumpsuit again up to her waist as replacement pants, and headed out.

A small pile of clothing lay in front of the door, and she remembered Gordon's promise to find her some jeans. Smiling, she took them into her room and emerged wearing a pair, though the waist was a bit tight. She came down to find Gordon peering at the instructions printed on the back of the box she had picked out that morning, and he turned to her with a baffled expression.

"Do you have any idea how to cook these things?"


	9. The Ninth Step

"So."

"So!" Wheatley nodded hurriedly, hands hidden safely behind his back.

"You've had the tour, seen most of the facility-"

"Yep. Seen all of it, I thought."

"We skipped the janitor's closet. Trust me, you're not missing out. And you've met Ivy-now. Do you think you're up to something?"

"Something?" Apprehensive, he faced Doctor Lawrence, tensing in anticipation. "Depends on the…something."

"I need you to organize a few of my files. Filing's the unknown demon of medicine. All you need to do is match this number-" Holding out a stack of papers, she pointed to a long strand of digits in the top right corner of the page. "To the number in the actual file. If we were an inner city operation, we'd have databases doing this, but for now we're stuck with manual labor. So-check the name at the top, find the patient, then match this check number to the file. And remember, always stick them in the back. I'm going to need to find them again at some point."

"Right. Always put them in the back. Got it, boss." He nodded eagerly, holding out his hands. "I think I'm okay with numbers-"

"Good. That's what I need." She nodded firmly in reply, placing the stack of papers in his large hands, then turned briskly to head back out to the main office. "The file cabinet should be open already. The patients go alphabetically, starting at the top."

"Oh! Yes, yes, of course-"

"And Wheatley?" She paused to glance back at him, smiling.

"Yes?"

"Good luck." With that, she pushed her way into the office proper, leaving him amid the stacks of supplies and cabinets. He hesitated for a moment, scrunching up his nose in confusion, then shrugged and turned to begin opening the cabinets one by one.

"Luck, huh? Luck…" He tried to reference his best sources to determine the origin of the term, but paused a moment too late after realizing he didn't exactly have access to an entire database of stored information any longer. The memory made him wince, flinching away from the thought as if the loss of the ability was tangible, then let himself ruminate on his work.

Luck-he knew it was connected with gambling somehow. And gambling was connected with chance. Probability. Luck was….the favorable outcome. If you got the favorable outcome, you were lucky. Not unlike hope, he figured. You hoped something would happen, and with luck, it did. One preceded, one followed. Simple.

As he managed to while away at the stack of paper, he began reading the numbers more and more quickly, memorizing them as he searched for their place in the stacks. As he had told Doctor Lawrence, numbers were easy for him. They were simple. Uncomplicated. After all, he was just a bunch of numbers, run together over and over again to create a personality. Numbers didn't have smiles or frowns, or emotions or-or guilt. He choked back a sob as the familiar tightening curled back around his chest, but he concentrated on the numbers and began filing even faster. Numbers and names, numbers and names, just like he had always done, number 1056, number 3490, number 0070, number 2997-

Numbers and names and faces, numbers and names and faces-

And then he ran out of paper.

Placing the last sheet in its place, he stared in consternation at his now empty hands. He closed the cabinet, then made his way to the storage room door, carefully poking his head outside before exiting. Doctor Lawrence hadn't told him what to do-this was what was called initiative, right? Like Rick. That annoying thing. This was an adventure-he had to figure out what to do. A puzzle. Chell was brilliant at puzzles, she'd know what to do-

But Chell wasn't here right now, he told himself. Directive: Find Doctor Lawrence, and receive further instruction. Check.

So he did the most logical thing. He followed the noise. There was only one doctor, after all, and she would be the only one in the exam rooms. Ivy and the other girl, Emma, stayed up front. So that worked well. Making his way along the relatively bleak corridors, he slowly approached the door, cracking it open to peek inside.

"Wheatley!"

Unfortunately, his unannounced entrance caused quite a bit of commotion, and he stumbled back as Doctor Lawrence forcefully ejected him from the room. Eyes wide, he fell back against the far wall, staring at the door in confusion before Doctor Lawrence finally emerged.

"Mr. Wheatley, may I ask what in Freeman's name you think you're doing?"

"I finished filing, so I thought-I needed to find you! You're the boss here, you'd tell me what to do next-"

Watching him, Doctor Lawrence sighed tiredly, putting a hand to her temple. "Listen, Wheatley, I'm glad you thought to come to me, but next time-wait until I'm not with a patient, yes? These rooms have doors for a reason."

"Oh. Oh, right, of course, I didn't think-"

"No, you didn't. But don't worry. I don't think Elijah was too traumatized." She offered him a faint smile, then quirked an eyebrow. "That was a joke, Wheatley. "

"Right! Yes! Jokes, right, I know-"

"If you need something more to do, head up front and have Ivy show you around. You can mail letters, type in information, anything-check in with her, first of all, then you can come to me if I'm not seeing anyone. Sound like a plan?"

He slowly nodded, standing straight again. "Yep-yessir-um, madam, yes ma'am, a plan indeed. So, I'll just, um….go on up, then-"

"You do that, now." She turned back to head into the room, speaking to the patient inside, and left Wheatley to find his way back along the hall. He winced slightly at the memory of the entire episode, then sighed. Well, it could have gone better. Here she was, offering him a position-a paid position, and she knew nothing about him-and he just went stumbling in, like with everything he did. Wonderful. An absolutely marvelous way to begin his very first day in human society.

Maybe he'd need to have Chell pick up her lessons again.


	10. The Tenth Step

As Chell gradually regained her strength, and Wheatley managed not to completely destroy Doctor Lawrence's office, the strange pair managed to develop a consistent routine, aided by Gordon's gracious cooking and driving services. Wheatley continued to apologize for his inability to pay Gordon for, well, practically anything, but Gordon simply waved him off with a chuckle. They did eventually go shopping, despite the confused looks the trio got from passersby-Chell privately though it was worth it just to see Wheatley try to figure out buttons. The tee shirt he had been wearing from Aperture had been reduced to scraps when they had entered the city, and Gordon's rough cotton shirts made him itch, or so he claimed. In any case, when she had finally picked out a plain white shirt and handed it to Wheatley, he smiled brilliantly for a moment before frowning at the buttons.

"Bloody useless, these things, aren't they? I mean-"

"You mean buttons? Wheatley, they keep your shirt on your body."

"Buttons?" Wheatley picked at the tiny bits of plastic, furrowing his brow. "But they're not connected to anything. There's no panels, or circuits, or even storage cubes for you to put on them-it's so practically useless-"

Catching a flash of motion out of the corner of his eye, he looked up to see Chell rolling her eyes and smiling faintly, shaking her head.

"Oh, sure, laugh at me, why don't you? Just because you've gotten to live in zippers all your life doesn't mean you're special or anything!"

With a tired glare, she approached him to slip the first button out of its eyelet, letting him study the motion.

"Oh. So that's-"

She nodded.

"Oh. Oh! Um. Thanks, I guess…" He shrugged, holding up the shirt to his frame. "I like this one, so…anything else?"

"Shoes would be a start. You've been wearing mine for the last week." Holding a few articles in his arms, Gordon nodded shortly, glancing at Wheatley's feet. "What's your size, boy?"

"My…size?"

"Yes. Of feet. You've never tried on shoes before?"

"What? Me? I've never had a need to-" A warning glance from CHell made him stutter, and he frantically tried to backtrack. "I-I mean I've never really been all that into shoes! Yeah. That's it. Never saw the use in them myself, unless they stop you from dying, or something-"

Gordon sighed in exasperation, motioning for Wheatley to follow him. Chell watched them go, then turned to make her way to the women's section. If she ever hoped to find a job, she'd need some sort of work attire…granted, she had studied the photos in the lower sections of Aperture, but she had a strong suspicion the exact fashions could have shifted over the years. Come to think of it, she still didn't actually know the year-twenty-first century was a given. She paused as she perused the aisles, hand on a hanger as she tried to estimate the days and years that had passed, when a sudden gasp broke her from her reverie. Glancing to the end of the aisle, she was surprised to find Wheatley standing there, panting lightly, and he dashed forward to confirm her identity.

"Don't do that to me! You could have gotten hurt!" He nodded emphatically, seeming not to notice as Gordon jogged up behind him.

"Wheatley-Wheatley, please, you can't go running off like this-"

"I turned around and you were gone! I thought you had-I mean, there's so many other humans around, and-"

She relaxed slightly, studying him. She motioned to him quickly, and he hesitated for a moment before nodding.

"It's just-when I'm with Doctor Lawrence, I know you're with Gordon. And the rest of the time we just stay at the house. Aside from a total structural collapse, which I know is unlikely-" He cut off, thinking, then shook his head. "You're relatively safe. And I-out there, there's-" He winced, trying to form the words in his head into words on his tongue, but he eventually gave up with a strained groan, ducking his head. Chell hesitated, studying him in consternation, then carefully placed a hand on his shoulder to lead him back down the aisle. She pointed to Gordon, miming walking, then continued to lead Wheatley back to the shoe section before successfully distracting him with the multitude of sizes.

As Gordon tried to tell Wheatley that, no, he could not in fact go to work in slippers, and wouldn't he please take a look at some nicer shoes instead, Chell sat to one side, watching the pair quietly. Wheatley's worry had, well, worried her. When they had first left Aperture, he had cared less about what she dealt with, but knew he was a burden-now, he….what? Congratulations, another humanoid cared what happened to her. She could say the same of Gordon.

But it was more than that, she argued. Despite their vow never to talk about Aperture or Her again, Chell found herself referencing information and skills from that place more often than she cared to realize. Everything about the past frightened her-but if she could ignore that for brief moments, she could remember the aged computers she had seen in the depths of the labs, the potatoes, the supposed deer, the falling, the darkness-

And Wheatley. The second voice she could ever remember hearing, and the only one that had honestly tried to help her, if only for a short time. With a pang, she recalled the moments when she had followed him through the laboratory, listening as his stream of chatter ignored the fact that she could be dead, or that she might be fatally wounded. She hadn't mattered, back then. He could have cared less. She was simply the one test subject he managed to keep alive.

So what had changed?

With a faint smile, she noted that that much was obvious. He could move now, independently. And was actually doing better than she had anticipated. He didn't need her to carry him around-in fact, he should logically care less about what happened to her. Yet, despite all of it, he needed her. Always her. He needed to know she was safe, because without her, he would fall. She was his management rail. And if that management rail broke-

With a start, she looked up to see Wheatley extending a hand to her, beckoning for them to go. He docilely followed her into the woman's section, making muted commentary on the uselessness of dresses. As she gathered together the few articles she had chose, Wheatley cleared his throat, pausing.

Turning to face him, she raised an eyebrow, silently questioning him.

"Listen, I-I'm sorry about that, earlier, I couldn't-I was just scared, that was all. There are too many…too many factors out here, factors I can't control-not that I should control them, just it-it scares me! I'm used to being in trouble, I've been there a lot, so it's not so strange, but you-you're fragile. I just-I can't trust anything out here. There's so many people, and I don't know what they're thinking, and even when they talk they could be lying, and you're the only person I start to understand, and if I lost that I wouldn't know what to do, and-"

He cut off in surprise, speechless as she placed a finger to his lips. Turning to go, she led him back to the front of the store, where Gordon was waiting near a check out. Quieted for the moment, Wheatley paid for their items before heading outside, searching momentarily before directing them towards what appeared to be a small restaurant.


	11. The Eleventh Step

Crossing the street, the strange trio fell into place as they chose their food, Gordon forced to stop Wheatley from ordering the entire menu. Chell found them seats while Gordon picked up their food from the counter, then the three of them settled into their chairs to being eating.

Wheatley, as always, dominated the conversation, finishing his meal in record time before absently wondering about why the sky was blue. He listed several theories, most of which made Gordon raise his eyebrows, but the other two let him talk.

"You know, space is all blackness, so-well, obviously you've got stars and things, and meteors, and comets, and asteroids, and….God, I was up there a while, wasn't I?"

"Up where?"

"Space? Oh, no, um, no, I wasn't anywhere."

Gordon glanced at him suspiciously, then hesitated as Wheatley stared at his lap, unmoving. "Wheaters?"

"What?"

"Are you…okay?"

"Me, yep, I'm fine, peachy keen, sharp as a button-no, as a tack, a tack, I meant-"

"So besides stars and comets and things….what do you think is in space?"

"I…Well, there's planets. I know that much. And…"

"And?"

"I suppose there could be planets like Earth. With different kinds of humans. They adapted differently, after all, so-extra-Earthlings. Non-earthlings."

"I think you mean extra-terrestrials."

"Right! Terra! Latin! I knew that!"

"You may, Wheatley, but the question is-how?"

A sudden look of panic flashed across Wheatley's expression, and Chell suddenly stood to redirect Gordon's attention back to her. Signing quickly, she shoved their empty food containers over to Gordon, prompting him to also stand. He eyed her for a moment, thinking, then took the containers before searching for a disposal area.

Sitting again, Chell looked to Wheatley, concerned. He was staring down at the ground again, trembling slightly, and she leaned across the table to touch his shoulder. He jumped, glancing at her, then relaxed slowly, sighing.

"I can't do this."

She shook her head, leaning on the table.

"No, Chell, I really can't do this. He knows something, he's suspicious, and we'll have to leave, and I just got a job-I can't, I can't do this, I can't-"

When a tap on his shoulder didn't work, she had to resort to a light slap, stunning him out of his rambling.

"Hey! That hurt!"

She eyed him in annoyance.

"Okay, fine, I got a bit off there…but we-"

She shook her head.

"But he's already started asking…and we can't let anyone know what's out there, it's a good few miles away-"

Holding up her fingers, she signed him a number.

"Wow. Um. More than I thought, there, but-I know we swore never to talk about that…place, I just-I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for that place, I would be in space, still stuck there after-" He broke off, trembling again, and Chell stood to cross the table to stand beside him. "I hate this. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I can't be human. I never was. And I never will be. I'm just some stupid core pretending to be human, I don't know why I thought this would work-"

She cautiously helped him stand, letting him lean on her slightly, and reached up to pat down his wiry hair in an effort to comfort him.

"I'm sorry, I just put you at risk, they'll find you and question me and ask me all sorts of difficult questions, and I won't be able to-"

Finally, fed up, she released him, letting him stumble slightly before poking him in the chest. His attention was sufficiently focused on her for her to begin signing to him, pointing around them.

"A job is nothing, it's pointless-"

More pointing.

"I haven't done anything-"

Now, a gesture to the bags.

"That was all Gordon, I can't-"

She glared at him, and eventually he quieted, sighing.

"I just make a really, really bad human, is all…." She hesitated, unsure how to reply, when he straightened to face her. "So I'm going to need your help. Even more than I have. I want to know everything, not just about manners and how to walk facing forward, I want to-I want to learn. I don't want to be a moron any more."

She smiled softly, shaking her head to indicate that he wasn't a moron, then led him to find Gordon, letting him carry their purchases as they finally set off towards the house.

**Wow. Um. This is going on a bit longer than I thought, but if you guys don't mind, I'll just keep going. It's slowly turning from a post-Portal fiction into more of an "Adventures with Wheatley" deal. If there's something you'd like to see more of, or less of, or a detail you think I should mention, go ahead and say so.**


	12. The Twelvth Step

The days grew progressively warmer, and Chell took up Gordon's invitation to work in his garden in the back, smoothing out the dirt before packing in each tiny seed. It gave her time to think, even more than she would have anyway, and she was able to regain some sense of normalcy.

Normalcy. Now there was a funny concept.

Back in Aperture, testing had been normal. Her escape-twice-was unexpected, and broke the pattern. The outside had been strange, not normal. But now the situations were flipped. She belonged out here, in a land of sun and dirt, and the thought of wanting to test was strange. Aperture was the anomaly, not this world. Gordon, Doctor Lawrence, the lady across the street and the man two doors down-they were all normal. And now, maybe she was normal too. She was beginning to fit in. Granted, there would always be some difference, but that was inevitable.

Was Wheatley normal? That was the thought she avoided most often, shying away from it to study a stick or branch she might have found. She never had an answer. And unanswered questions were the worst of all.

In that aspect, then, she and Her were the same. The robot had to test, and could leave no stone unturned. But that was a strictly scientific curiosity. Chell wanted to know what was happening, with her and the people around her, and she couldn't do that if they were keeping secrets. Wheatley wouldn't, of course, but Gordon was still an unknown. Wheatley trusted him well enough. But then again, Gordon was the first human besides Chell the former sphere had ever seen, and the first one who wouldn't have good reason to kill him.

Not that she did. Despite her stoicism, she didn't wish him harm any longer. His betrayal had been a shock, but defeating him was easier than it had been to face Her the first time. His original plan had actually been brilliant-it had worked, and they had managed to take Her out. If it wasn't for the programming of the mainframe, she might have escaped there and then. Then came the testing, then her sickness, then the entire Wheatley-in-a-body debacle-facing a large, omnipotent robot together certainly does something for a pair's camaraderie. His concern for her endeared him to her in a way. She knew he felt guilty, and she supposed….she had forgiven him. He may not have known, but she forgave him when he made the choice to help her. There would always be the bad blood from the past, but they were here now. Among other humans, as he put it. Those memories belonged to another life, another time, and he was doing everything he could to look out for her now.

The thought made her smile faintly, and she stood to brush off her dirtied hands. A small fence tried to protect the bare earth from the rest of the world, and she stepped through a gate before latching it behind her, entering the house to find Gordon reading at the table. She washed her hands briefly, studying him, then moved to head upstairs.

"Oh! Wait, um, Chell, I…I wanted to ask you something." Gordon moved to stop her, dog-earing the page of his book. "Have you and Wheatley always known each other?"

She hesitated, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean, he's obviously…something's not right with him. Both of you, really. You come out of the wilderness, total mysteries, and I was wondering-did you come from the same place?"

Slowly, she nodded, eyeing him carefully.

"So you…left to come here, then. Did you hurt him?"

She leaned back, a look of utter confusion on her features.

"He simply-when he first came, he seemed real skittish around you. Afraid you would hurt him. So, either he hurt you or you hurt him."

She shrugged, gesturing vaguely.

"You…hurt each other? Hm." Encouraged by her small nod, Gordon shrugged in response. "Well, you two seem to get on well enough now. Glad to see you made up." He raised a hand before returning to his book, freeing her from the one-sided conversation. Chell shook her head, trying to fathom Gordon's curiosity, but ignored it to head back upstairs.

Fingers tapping against the table, Gordon concentrated more on the puzzle of his two houseguests rather than the words on the page before him. He knew living on the edge of the city came with its dangers. But the city had its defenses-the old war machines were all they had to worry about. He could be wrong. Danger came in all shapes and forms. And he always had to be on his guard.


	13. The Thirteenth Step

Night had fallen. And with it, the comfortable silence of Gordon's older home. Chell often felt like she had no need for sleep, seeing as she had spent a good deal of her life in stasis, but neither Wheatley nor Gordon were perceptive enough to figure out what she was signing. She knew Wheatley had trouble sleeping-the sensation was foreign to him, and he tossed and turned to no end as he wrangled with the sheets. However, a week or two had done them good, and Chell was sleeping easily even as Wheatley carefully fell asleep.

She never realized it was really the little things that helped him along.

His room was usually kept impeccably clean, as he had very few possessions to leave lying about, and both Chell and Gordon usually stayed out. She had gone in once to clean, and when Wheatley had returned home he had asked her what had changed. She was surprised that he had even noticed, but signed a simple reply and he nodded in understanding. He had a place for everything-the single pillow, the two drapes. He had a strange love of symmetry, she decided. She gave little thought to it, but did her best to accommodate him whenever she cleaned.

So, of course, when she tidied up his room the next time, she made sure to set the curtains exactly a foot from the edge of the window, nodding to herself in satisfaction before moving on to her own room. He thanked her that night over dinner, and that was the end of everything.

He didn't realize the problem until he woke up in the middle of the night, bathed in the light of the moon. Eyes wide, he ended up staring out the window, curtains parted just enough to let him see the wide expanse of sky outside, full of stars and glimmering with light. He was silent for a long moment, frozen in the muted light, then let out a strangled cry before scrambling to gather the sheets around him. Unfortunately, his splendid lack of coordination managed to land him on the floor with a thud, appendages totally tangled in the fabric.

It took a moment, but Chell soon arrived in the doorway, taking some time to locate him before crouching to help. He sat up in surprise, panting, then instinctively reached toward her. She was somewhat taken aback by the motion, but took his hands and pulled him into a more comfortable position.

"Space, it's space, there's so much and it's going on and the stars and the brightness and I was alone, totally alone, and then there was the _screaming_-"

She was surprised at his sudden verbosity, but moved to examine him more closely, brushing his bangs away from his eyes to see them scrunched up and squeezed tight. After the episode in the abandoned town, she thought he would have been past everything-it seems that was another difference between them, then. She saw obstacles, dealt with them, and moved on. But the exquisite torture he had endured, the brightness of day and the darkness of night….she sighed softly to herself. It would take time. That was the annoying part.

She tried to encourage him to stand, but physics worked against her to keep him firmly on the ground. She huffed quietly, trying to decide between comforting him or getting him back up on the bed. Unfortunately, the decision was cut short for her, as Gordon appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes.

"What in the name of all that's holy is going on?"

Chell stood suddenly, trying to wave him off, but he pushed his way into the room to stare down at the trembling Wheatley.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Space, so much space, and it won't stop-Chell, please, make it stop, I can't see, I can't see anything-I'm sorry, really, really sorry, I won't do anything again-"

"What is he on about?" Gordon looked to Chell expectantly, tense, while she could do little but glare back in response. She made no movement to reply, but simply shook her head, motioning for him to help Wheatley back onto the bed. Gordon stood, frozen, then made a hasty retreat, leaving Chell to deal with the still frightened man. Stepping over him, she first moved to close the drapes, and noticed an immediate relaxation in the body next to her. This time, it was far easier to shift Wheatley and help him up to the bed, and she carefully laid the blankets over him before heading back to her own room.

Both Wheatley's reaction and Gordon's reaction troubled her, but she realized it would do little good to ruminate on them for very long. Wheatley still couldn't look at the moon without going ballistic. She could hardly blame him. And that fact only served to confuse Gordon-she could hardly blame _him _for that, either. And finally, in addition to the fact that she was mute, the entire situation was just complicated with all three of them in such close company. Eventually, she went back to sleep, curled among her own blankets, and waited for the sun to rise, her dreams peacefully quiet in contrast to her waking hours of hustle and bustle.

0

When Wheatley awoke the next morning, he had only a vague memory of what had transpired the night before, and made no mention of it to either Chell or Gordon as he made breakfast and was driven off to work. Chell thought the issue was dealt with-Gordon didn't bring up the subject either, and so she could only assume that he was resigned to Wheatley's possible outbursts. He had put up with the former core for some time. A bit more irregularity couldn't come as too much of a surprise.

She spent most of her day outside, assisting Gordon in clearing away debris from the backside of the house, then began to prepare dinner as Gordon left to pick up Wheatley. The older man returned home to begin setting the table, Wheatley dashing upstairs to change into what he felt was a more comfortable shirt before moving to help him. Finally, Chell leaned over the counter to sign a sequence of numbers to Gordon, who nodded before beckoning to her. He was already seated at the table, having been occupied with something after he had finished setting their places, and Wheatley moved to stand beside her as he returned from another room.

Chell moved to seat herself, but paused when she noticed what Gordon was toying with. Wheatley noticed nothing amiss, but when she hesitated, he glanced between his two companions. "Chell? Is there something the matter?"

Gordon returned Chell's inquisitive glance, nodding to the gun laying before him on the table. "Wheatley. You know what this is, right?"

"What? It just looks like a bunch of metal-designed for the hand, at a guess, but I don't know-"

"It's a gun. You know, they shoot bullets?" Gordon's tone turned distinctly condescending, and he turned the gun over to properly showcase it to the intrigued core.

"What? But that thing-it's far too small to be a gun, there's nothing for it to rest on your arm, and that opening would be useless-" Chell tried to quiet him, but his attention was totally focused on the metal before him at this point. "It's not like any gun we had, like I said, too small for one, and it wouldn't accomplish much-"

"It's for defense. Specifically, my own. You see, I know that living out here comes with its risks, as both Riley and Doctor Lawrence like to remind me-but few people know I keep one of these on hand. I welcomed the both of you into my home, and Chell at least has proved quite the help." Wheatley's expression shifted drastically, but Gordon seemed not to notice. "We thought the danger was gone long ago-really, the only things we have to worry about now are the machines out in the fields. But you two….well. You're not normal. And that in itself is dangerous."

Pulling Wheatley into his chair, Chell hurriedly tried to motion to Gordon, urging him to put the gun away.

"Then, Wheatley, there's you. Mutism I can understand. A lot of people had to deal with things after the wars, and even when they ran into stragglers. But you, Wheatley-you know a lot. And yet you don't know anything. You knew Latin. You know about space. Heck, even now you were trying to tell me what a gun is supposed to look like!"

"I'm still not clear-that thing is supposed to be dangerous?"

Chell put a hand to her temple, sighing, then motioned to Wheatley to indicate something traveling extremely fast.

"Oh! Physics! So-but it's just a little metal ball, it wouldn't hurt-"

"Point is, Wheaters, most people would be concerned, just a bit, like your friend is here! All the things you know-normal humans wouldn't know that. So I have no other conclusion but that you are an agent, sent to prepare the world for a second attack." Cocking the hammer of the pistol, Gordon slowly raised it to point at Wheatley, shrugging. "If you aren't, then I'm wrong. But if I'm right, then I save my planet."

Chell stood suddenly, pleading with Gordon.

"But-it wouldn't do anything! I don't understand-I wouldn't get hurt, would I, Chell?"

"They really picked a good one, didn't they-sent you along with her, make you look somewhat normal, made it so she couldn't tell anyone what was happening-I'm surprised I didn't see it sooner. You make a pathetic agent."

"I don't understand! I'm not an agent for anyone, I'm just-"

"Then what are you, Wheatley?"

At the question, Wheatley tensed, eyes widening as he looked to Chell for assistance. However, it was her turn to ignore him as she motioned frantically to Gordon, trying to make him put the gun down.

"I-I can't-I'm not-"

"Exactly. So I have no other option."

Suddenly, Chell moved to stand in front of Wheatley, staring at Gordon. Wheatley stood to make room for her, watching her in surprise, while Gordon hesitated.

"Get out of the way, girl."

She shook her head, pointing to herself, then Wheatley, and finally back to Gordon.

"He's not human, you know that-"

Another vehement shake of the head. Reaching behind her, she pulled Wheatley's hand forward, pinching the inside of his wrist. He twitched at the pinch, looking to her in confusion, then hurriedly pulled his hand back to rub at the reddening skin. "That hurt."

More of Chell's movements made Gordon slowly stand, setting the gun to one side. "You….you trust him, do you?"

She nodded, then glared at him before motioning to the door. Gordon followed her movements, then released a tired sigh, sitting again.

"All right. If you think he's okay, then both of you can stay for a while longer. But can you-"

A harsh glare from Chell quieted him, even as a ding from the kitchen announced the completion of their meal. Still eyeing Gordon suspiciously, Chell strode off to retrieve the food, leaving Wheatley to awkwardly seat himself again and half-smile at Gordon.

"So, that thing…it kills things, yes?"

"Sometimes. It has the potential to kill. Doesn't mean always mean it will." Gordon shrugged, taking the plate from Chell before beginning to ladle out their food.

"But it's just a little ball traveling faster than any ball has a right to-"

Chell shook her head, pointing to various parts of her body and miming pain.

"Turrets are different! They knew how to aim-and neurotoxins specifically act to shut down the nervous system, they don't-"

Chell rolled her eyes, taking a bite before glaring at Wheatley.

"I…mean….I-humans use those things a lot?"

"A lot? I wouldn't say so. Most of us out here have them for protection." Gordon stressed the last word, nonchalantly taking a few bites of his own meal. "We have to be careful."

"Oh. Right. Of course." Wheatley turned his attention to his food, leaving the dinner table rather quiet for the duration of the meal, then dashed away to wash his own plate before disappearing upstairs. Chell did much the same, putting her plate away after it was dried, but as she turned to move upstairs Gordon stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Remember, kid, this gun's not going anywhere. Your friend tries anything, I'll be ready."

She glared at him, tearing her arm out of his grip, then headed upstairs. Gordon shook his head as she left, then set the gun in the center of the dinner table, switching it to safety before following the other two to bed.


	14. The Fourteenth Step

Later that night, when the house had finished settling and everything was quiet, Wheatley carefully awoke, creeping into the hallway before making his way downstairs. The moonlight upset him less than it had-he was prepared for it this time, though it still made him shiver. Bumping into a stray chair as he entered the main room, he muttered softly to himself, making his way back to the now infamous dinner table in what little light there was. Finally, he was able to pull out a chair and sit, staring straight ahead of him-

At that thing. That little, innocent piece of metal. It still sat there, staring at him, and it confused him. One tiny piece of worked metal, with some fire and explosive thrown in, couldn't do that much damage…could it? Chell had managed to explain the basics, but he still couldn't see how such an insignificant thing could do so much harm. Turrets were bigger, and smarter, and had targeting sequences-they knew what they were doing. Their missiles were designed to hurt, everything about their design was custom-fitted to death. He smiled faintly at the thought, a decidedly morbid one that he entertained for some time.

But this thing, this thing that made Gordon threaten him and made Chell worry, seemed much too small in comparison. The instruments of death were glimmering white, brilliant red. This gun was a dull, lumpy black. But Chell said it could kill. This tiny piece of metal? One tiny metal ball?

With his hands resting against the table, he suddenly tensed as a female voice came, unbidden, into his thoughts.

_You know, metal ball, I can hear you._

That was all he was. All he had been. A tiny piece of metal, with some fire and explosives and turrets and testing thrown in-and he had almost killed. He hadn't cared at the time, had only seen his Itch and his desire and his absolute need to see her win. But now, with the crystal clear vision of hindsight, he saw. He saw all too well. And cared far too much. This was where the guilt came from, he saw, not the fact that he had done such things, but the fact that he had known what he was doing, and didn't care, didn't even bother worrying about _her_, and felt no remorse when the bullets made her bleed bright red-that he wasn't able to resist that idiotic programming, the codifying influence of the mainframe, that damn Itch that had turned him from Wheatley into something-someone-else; the fact that he was too weak to stand up to that programming, especially like She had, was so much of a moron that he couldn't see when his only ally was in danger.

That was the problem, you see. He was always the moron. And that was what had started all these problems.

Tears trailing down his cheeks, he drew his knees to his chin, rocking slightly even as Chell descended the stairs. She watched him for a moment, still sleepy, then moved to stand beside his chair, afraid to touch the larger man. He seemed not to notice her presence, but a ragged sigh made her examine him closely, waiting.

"C-Chell?"

She nodded, then placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"I hope you know I'm a moron."

Sighing softly, she crouched to look up at him, shaking her head firmly. However, Wheatley didn't notice her, instead focusing on the table before him.

"I mess everything up, and even-even when I try to do things right, I make mistakes, and I-" He broke off, trembling again, then unfolded his legs to sit up. "There's no hope for me. I can't change. I'm a core, a construct, and I can't possibly hope to learn like you can. There's no way I can grow out of this. It just won't happen. I'll just always be a burden to you, a cancer on your life, and-" He nodded, taking a deep breath. "And everyone knows what you do with cancers."

Standing again, Chell studied him, perturbed. However, as she followed his gaze to the gun lying before them, she shook her head again, placing both hands on his shoulders.

"It'd be better if I just wasn't here. Don't try to deny it. Even Gordon can see it-you're normal. I'm not. You're good, I'm bad. You live. I die."

Forcing him back into the chair with a slight scrape, Chell stared at him, holding him back until he looked up at her.

"You and Gordon say that thing can kill people, right? Well, I'm as close to human as I'll ever be-why not give it a whirl?" His tone was edgy, nearly frantic, and she forced herself not to give in and hug him, but instead simply stare, light gray to blue, subject to core. Eventually, he stared back, almost terrified by the emotion in her gaze, and relaxed under her hands to lean into the chair.

Slowly, carefully, she released him, keeping a careful eye on his movements. Her next motions were precise and deliberate, outlining her questions without letting him answer. At last, she pointed to him, then nodded curtly.

"I-I…I chose this body because…." He trailed off, truly lost. "I wanted it. I wanted to be free. And I couldn't do that the way I was."

She made a motion for him to continue.

"I…suppose…I liked being human. That time was-amazing, really. I loved it. And I wanted more."

She signed to him again, nodding, then pointed to him once more. He paused, caught off-guard, then shrugged.

"You're right, I guess….you tend to do that. It's….it's silly for me to give up now, when we've already made it so far-"

She nodded encouragingly.

"But I-I'm useless. Honestly, Chell, I can't-"

With a flicker of a scowl, she shook her head, moving to pull him out of the chair and away from the table. He stood with some difficulty, nearly falling, but trailed behind her as she continued to sign.

"You honestly-You really want me to stay?"

She nodded again, staring at him, then beckoned to the stairs. He slowly followed, ascending the stairs one by one, then paused as they reached the top. "Chell?"

Turning to him, she raised an eyebrow, then nodded.

"Thank you." Suddenly reaching forward, he pulled her into an awkward hug, his long arms wrapping tightly around her. She tensed momentarily, surprised by the contact, but slowly relaxed to accept the hug, smiling up at him as he backed away again. She waved, and was heartened to see him wave back before turning to enter his room. Making her way back to her own bed, she continued to smile faintly even as she curled up beneath the sheets, mentally comforted as she drifted back into sleep.


	15. The Fifteenth Step

Ivy had left, and the final count of employees in Doctor Lawrence's office came to a grand total of three. Wheatley, despite his reluctance, managed to man the front desk every other day, humming softly to himself as he entered in patients and welcomed them to the clinic. He did earn the occasional odd glare or questioning examination, but he was mostly oblivious to the scrutiny and contentedly typed up names, correcting whatever mistakes he saw.

However, it was a quiet day when he received his strangest visitor, one of only three other patients in the waiting room. Wheatley had just checked in a middle-aged woman, and she was sitting with a homemaking magazine when a small face peeked over the counter. "Hello?"

He seemed not to notice the interruption, typing away in his own little world, and the little girl stood up straighter to lean on the counter. "Hello, mister."

"Hm?" He glanced over, blinking in surprise before nodding. "Oh. Hello."

"What do you do, mister?"

"I…work here. What are you doing?"

"My mommy checked in a little bit ago. And you don't have any kids books for me."

"Oh! Um…didn't you…" Wheatley halted, processing quickly. "Did you bring anything to do?"

The girl quickly shook her head, hair swishing. "I'm bored."

"Sorry, I can't-"

"What's your name?"

"Um…Wheatley."

"Just Wheatley?"

"Ah…Wheatley…Hyacinthus."

"That's a weird name."

"Well, I'm a weird guy." He tried to turn back to his computer, but the little girl's attention never wavered, making him fidget.

"Do you have any pets?"

"No. None. Not really a…an animal person, me."

"I have a canary. She likes to flutter around and sing songs."

"She-She flutters? What is she, a butterfly?"

"No, silly, she's a bird!"

"A bird!" Wheatley tensed suddenly, backing away from the counter. "What, you mean-you keep a bird? In your house?"

"Yep!"

"Hey. Wheatley." The other receptionist looked to him with an eyebrow raised. "Calm down."

"Um…right. Yes. I'm calm." He nodded suddenly, turning back to the computer.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Mister Wheatley?"

"What?"

"A girlfriend! You know, someone you like and you eat dinner with and you take dancing and-"

"Nope, I don't…I don't have one of those."

"Do you want one?"

Wheatley hesitated, staring at her in surprise. "How exactly…does one go about finding a girlfriend?"

"Well, if there's someone you like, then you ask them to dinner! That's how my brother did it. You find a nice girl, and she says yes, then you become boyfriend and girlfriend!"

"And it doesn't matter…if you already know each other?"

"Of course not. You have to, if you want to ask her."

"Right…" Wheatley slowly nodded, turning back to the computer once more, when a loud thud came from the rear room of the clinic. After a few minutes of silence, the other receptionist came up, tapping Wheatley on the shoulder before whispering harshly into his ear.

"The doctor needs you. Right now. She, um-"

"Yeah, sure, what-what's going on?"

"She needs your help. I'll take the front, just get back there."

"Right." He nodded quickly, scooting the chair back to stand hurriedly. He glanced back at the waiting room, then turned to dash back to the currently occupied room.

"Doctor Lawrence?"

"In here, Wheatley, hurry!"

Pushing open the door, Wheatley stared for a moment before coming to her side, nodding.

"Wheatley, hold down his left arm, right here."

"Right, yes-"

"He's a bit-um-against the idea of the anesthesia. I just need to get the shot in, if you can keep him down-"

"Sure, sure-what on earth is that?" As Wheatley moved to hold on to the struggling man's arm, he stared at Doctor Lawrence as she pulled a large, metal contraption from the drawer to one side of the room. "That looks-if you don't mind me saying-pretty dangerous-"

"Just a little contraption of my own a friend of mine whipped up. With all the scrap metal laying about after the wars, he make a killing off of this sort of thing. I promise you, it's next to painless and gets the job done faster." With a firm nod, she moved back to Wheatley's side, flicking a switch on the side of the metal before holding it above the patient's arm. "You ready?"

"Um-" With a flash, Wheatley winced, leaning away as she rammed the metal down onto the exposed skin. There was a muffled whimper, and the man went limp, collapsing into the chair. Wheatley stared down at him, finally releasing him, then stammered. "Is he-we're good? We did okay?"

"Yep. Did great, Wheatley. You can head back up front now, I just need to fix up a few things."

"Okay, um….Doctor Lawrence?"

"Yes, Wheatley?" She crossed in front of him as she replied, glancing at her drawer before pulling out a syringe.

"Do you-I mean-can we-" Wheatley hesitated, thinking. "Would you like to come to dinner tonight?"

"What?" She tensed, glancing to him as she slowly filled the syringe with liquid. "You mean-" Shaking her head suddenly, she returned to the chair, sighing. "Go back up front. We can talk about this when I'm not cutting a man's arm open, okay?"

"Um…yes, yes, right-sorry, sorry-"

"Go on, Wheatley."

"Yes ma'am." He nodded quickly, staring at her, then ducked back out, trembling slightly as he rushed back up to the front desk. "Listen, I-I'm going to file a few of these shot records, okay, just…organize a few things-"

The other receptionist nodded, glancing back at him. "Go ahead. I can handle this crowd." She smiled faintly, gesturing to the three occupants of the waiting room, then glanced to the computer before opening up a schedule book.

Wheatley nodded, glancing up to see the little girl from earlier waving to him. He carefully waved back, then turned aside to focus his attention on the filing cabinet.

0110100011101010110110101100 001011011100000110100001010

That evening, after the other receptionist had left, Wheatley remained waiting in the back room, fidgeting as Doctor Lawrence flicked out the last of the lights. She shrugged her coat on slowly, thinking, then walked up to Wheatley with a soft sigh.

"Listen, Wheatley-"

"Doctor Lawrence, I'm sorry for asking, that was-that was stupid of me, and I didn't mean-you don't have to consider anything I said, I was just thinking-"

"Wheatley, Wheatley, please-it's okay." She smiled softly, standing before him to nod. "It's been a while since I got propositioned-and certainly not in such a surprising way."

"Yeah, about that-"

"But I'm sorry. I'd be happy to join you, and Chell, and Mr. Washington for dinner some time, but a relationship-as I think you were implying-well, I don't want to lead you on. It would be pointless. I don't know what your feelings toward me are, but I see you as a good person. A good man. And an wonder with computers. But I see nothing…I mean, I don't know how I can say this without sounding callous-I simply don't see you as a potential match."

"You see me…as a good person?"

Surprised by his question, she shrugged. "Of course. You're kind, and relatively considerate, and you don't usually try to make a nuisance of yourself-you've been a great help to me. Beyond holding down uncooperative patients, that is."

He smiled faintly, staring at her before clearing his throat. "Right, well-I'm sorry, again-I simply thought…I suppose I wanted to see what would happen. An-An experiment, if you will. I mean, you're-you're an amazing woman, and a great doctor, and I-" He shook his head, turning away. "Never mind. It wasn't all that important, I suppose, so-"

"Wheatley-" She moved to stand beside him, studying him carefully. "I'm sure there's someone for you. It's just not me, if you…catch my drift."

"Sure, sure. I mean, I don't understand girlfriends and boyfriends all that well myself, but-sure. If you say so."

"I do say so." She nodded firmly, letting him open the door before turning to lock the office securely. "Do you want me to wait with you until Gordon comes?"

"No, thanks, I'll be fine." He shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Maybe you should go to dinner with him. He seems to like you well enough."

Lawrence chuckled faintly, fishing out her car keys before raising a hand in farewell. "Maybe, Wheatley, but I don't think that probability's very high. No, I'll find some young, dashing doctor, who's willing to put up with my-"

"Pyrotechnic tendencies?"

"I was going to say strange work hours, but pyrotechnic tendencies works too. Good night, Wheatley."

"Good night, Doctor Lawrence." As she started her own car, and Gordon's dilapidated machine puttered into the lot, Wheatley sighed in consternation. Human society was hard enough as it was, but-boyfriends and girlfriends?

The concept didn't even make sense.


	16. The Sixteenth Step

Gordon had to admit, though the tall stranger was certainly clumsy enough, he managed to pick up things easily, and their driving lessons proved shorter than Gordon had anticipated. Wheatley eagerly examined the car both inside and out, learning every detail of the machine, and soon matched Gordon in sheer trivia about the thing. Slowly, Gordon managed to transition Wheatley into driving himself to and from work, and even went so far as to help him obtain a license. Chell was surprised to hear that it had gone smoothly, leaning on the counter as Wheatley described the "adventure".

"They didn't seem too confused, which is a good thing-although I was worried about records. But Gordon managed it."

He waved Wheatley off, shrugging. "No one much cares at this point. Records are so mangled as it is, I wouldn't be surprised to think they'd never find you again in that mess. That last name business of yours was pretty sharp, though."

Chell raised an eyebrow, glancing at Wheatley, who colored faintly. "It wasn't much, I simply-I just used the Latin word for 'blue'….So, I guess, if I ever go to some fancy formal party, they'll call me Mr. Hyacinthus. Rather exotic, I think."

Suddenly, Chell smiled widely before laughing silently, a hand over her mouth. Wheatley scrunched up his nose, confused, and tilted his head to watch her until she finished. Straightening again, she shook her head, miming tying a bow tie and wearing a suit jacket. Gordon slowly smiled, understanding her, then nodded to Wheatley. "She's right. You'd look pretty silly in formal wear."

"What? Why?"

"Because you're so tall, dingbat! Finding a suit alone would be torture…" Gordon shook his head, moving into the kitchen. Chell straightened, watching him, then turned back to the table. Wheatley looked to both of them, hesitant, then dashed after Gordon.

"Hey, ah, Gordon…"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, Wheatley?" The older man turned, looking to him.

"I was wondering, maybe…could Chell and I….eat alone tonight? Like, can I take her somewhere? You mentioned it at one point, but since I couldn't drive there was never really an opportunity-" He cut off, watching Gordon, then slowly relaxed as the other man nodded.

"'Course you can. It'll be good for both of you. Besides, it might give me time to make a surprise for the two of you." Gordon fished in his pocket for a moment, concentrating, then pulled out the keys to his car. "Treat her right."

"Wouldn't dream otherwise, sir."

"You know I was talking about the car, right?"

"Ah…" Wheatley hesitated, confused. "Right?" Gordon smiled, nodding to him.

"Good man. Now-have fun." Handing him the keys, Gordon returned to his pantry, examining the contents. Wheatley stood for a moment in the kitchen, thinking, then nodded firmly, returning to the main room to find Chell.

"Chell? Ah, Chell-oh, there you are." He smiled shakily, nodding to her as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Um, listen, I asked Gordon, and…I was thinking we could go out to eat. Just-somewhere nice, me and you. Just to talk-well, me to talk, you to…." He winced faintly, glancing away. "Sorry. Insensitive prick, right here. But, um, can we?"

She smiled at him, setting down the forks in her hands, then nodded. Approaching him, she mimed quickly, asking a question, and he nodded hurriedly before heading to the door. "Anything you want, love. I'll be the taxi, and you can just…choose a spot." Leading her out to the car, he waited for her to enter, then started the car in order to pull away from the house. Watching him with a faint sense of pride, Chell pointed to various landmarks, asking about each one. Wheatley eagerly explained each detail of the landscape, relating various stories he had heard from either Doctor Lawrence or Gordon himself. Finally, though, Chell pointed to a small bistro, nodding.

"That? I don't think that's anything famous, it's just a-oh, that's where you want to go! Okay. Sure. Right." Nodding, Wheatley carefully pulled into the small parking structure, letting her get out first to lead him inside.

Accordion music drifted slowly through the small restaurant, and Chell held up two fingers to tell the server their party. He nodded in understanding, making a note, then called behind him to have a waiter seat them. After choosing their meal, and receiving their food, Chell and Wheatley soon fell into a comfortable quietness, bolstered by the music and chatter around them.

"So, all in all…it was a good day, I think. I mean, I don't know what you do, but-"

Chell held up a hand, shrugging. Wheatley nodded, smiling faintly, then turned his attention to his food, toying with it. She noticed his hesitation and leaned forward in concern, tapping a finger on the table to get his attention.

"Hm? Oh, no, nothing's the matter, it's just…." Wheatley sighed. "A while ago, when I started getting paid, I-I set up a bank account. It's under the same name as the license, so it's all free and clear, but-I'm sorry, Chell, I should have told you, the money's for the both of us, and I didn't-"

She shook her head, reassuring him. He bit his lip in worry, glancing at her, then nodded swiftly.

"And I mean…it went well today, but-but I don't have any records, none at all-I don't exist outside of-" His voice went quiet suddenly, and she had to lean in to hear. "-that place, I shouldn't exist, really, and neither of us have last names-what will we do?"

Chell sighed quietly, leaning on her hands. Slowly, deliberately, she shrugged, gesturing in long motions to communicate with him. Wheatley nodded as she continued, glancing down at his food before sighing.

"I suppose…but Chell, there's so much you need an identity for-"

She nodded firmly, pointing at him.

"I-Chell, you-we-" He huffed, sitting up. "We're leaving! We're going to get out of this little town, and the big cities will be confused. They'll-they'll ask questions, and we'll have to tell them about-about the place, and they'll go and find her and-"

Chell glared at him, quieting him before sighing. She shook her head, eyeing him, then made soothing motions with her hands. He tried to protest, but shrugged, picking at the remnants of his food. Finally, after she had finished, he quietly spoke again.

"Do you want to leave here? This place, I mean? Doctor Lawrence and Gordon have been more than nice, but-would you object if we left? Got…" He trailed off, and Chell had to prompt him for some time before he would finish. "Got…further away from that place? We're pretty far away, but…we should go further away." He nodded hurriedly, and Chell smiled faintly. She carefully nodded in reply, glancing outside before signing to him. He perked up slightly when she finished, and let a small smile find refuge on his expression.

"So…you would come with? I mean, I had assumed you would, but I really-I shouldn't do that, that's not exactly the best plan-but you wouldn't mind leaving?"

She nodded, mirroring his smile. He tilted his head in confusion, watching her. "I didn't think you'd be so happy about it."

She simply shrugged, making him nod again before pushing his plate aside. "Chell? So, um, now that we've figured that out…what can you tell me about boyfriends?"

At his question, her eyes went wide, and she had to hide a smile before replying. He leaned on the table in rapt attention as she tried to convey the nuances of romance and dating, courtship and conversation. He nodded eagerly each time she paused, preventing himself from asking questions through sheer force of will. Finally, she finished with a shrug, concluding that she knew little on the subject herself, but had told him all she could.

He sat back once she folded her hands, ruminating over her speech while he tried to pay for the meal. Chell watched him count out the bills, then took her coat as he stood to go. They spoke little as he found the car again, settling into the seat with a sigh before maneuvering back out onto the roads. She smiled at the sight of the city lights glimmering in the night, a little more comforted now that she was in the middle of them. Wheatley began humming faintly, then sighed. "Chell? Are we dating?"

She stiffened suddenly, blinking.

"Well, like you said, I like you, and I…I got the impression you liked me-and we just had dinner together, so…."

She laughed silently, shaking her head. She waited for him to drive a moment further, then let him pull into the small alcove beside Gordon's house before turning to him. He glanced at her, confused, then nodded as she signed shortly to him.

"So…friendship is different? And-we're friends?"

She nodded, smiling faintly.

"We are! I-um, sorry, I…we really are?"

She grinned, shaking her head before beckoning to him. They exited the car together, and Chell moved to take his arm before using her free hand to sign to him. He nodded intently as they approached the door, and glanced around to find the lights shut off.

"Where's Gordon?"

She shrugged, pointing upstairs.

"Oh. Sure. Um…good night, I guess. Do we just-"

She nodded, releasing him to head upstairs to her own room.

"Sleep well, Chell, I suppose…" He shrugged, raising a hand to wave to her before cautiously following, glancing at her closed door before heading into his own room.

**Merry Christmas, everyone.**


	17. The Seventeenth Step

**Sorry for the wait.**

The two of them were used to Wheatley's chatter, after several weeks of living together, so when he showed up one evening surprisingly quiet, even Gordon noticed. Chell prevented him from asking any awkward questions, but even through dinner, the former core picked at his food, humming softly to himself. Chell and Gordon both stared at him, unsure of what to do, and when Gordon cleared his throat, Wheatley glanced up in surprise.

"Is something wrong?"

"There sure is. You've been quieter than Riley when he's trying to hide something." Gordon leaned on the table, eyeing the younger man. "What's eating you?"

"Nothing, um-" Wheatley furrowed his brow, confused. "I'm eating. I'm the one eating, at the moment, nothing is-"

"It's a figure of speech, Wheatley." Gordon waved, pushing his plate aside.

"You should-There should really be some signal for that, a little motion or something-" Wheatley broke off as Gordon sighed, Chell watching the dialogue with a wide smile.

"My point is, you're hiding something, and it's something big. Tell us."

"Oh, well, it's not really much, just…" Wheatley shrugged, standing to gather the empty plates. "I was doing the math today, had some free time at work, and-and I realized I have enough money to buy a ticket. Two tickets, actually, for the tube to one of the bigger cities, head deeper into the country-"

"You mean…away from here?" Gordon hesitated, struck speechless, while Chell raised both eyebrows in interest. She moved to help Wheatley with the plates, taking them into the kitchen, then returned to cross her arms and stare at him. Wheatley tried not to fidget under her scrutiny, but eventually whined softly before nodding.

"Yes, away from here. Just somewhere else, somewhere different-I knew I couldn't stay with Doctor Lawrence for long. And her receptionist will be back from maternity leave any day now, it's hardly a permanent position. Besides, I…." Wheatley trailed off, quieting. "I might have decided to look at some universities, just-just looking around, mind you, and I thought it would be nice to maybe take a class or two…"

"Oh. Oh, of course. That makes sense, I suppose-" Gordon nodded, putting a hand to his chin. "But we have a school here, you don't have to go."

"I know, I know, it-I just don't want to be a burden. And if I don't have a job, I can't pay you to stay here, and-"

"Wheatley, I was doin' this out of the kindness of my heart. You never needed to pay me. Besides, Chell's help more than made up for it." Gordon nodded to her, receiving a dramatic curtsey in reply. "Are you sure you want to go, Wheatley?"

"I-I don't know, maybe, I thought-" Wheatley shrugged hesitantly, sighing softly. "It was a stupid idea, sorry, just like everything-listen, I've got some stuff to do, I'll see you both in the morning." He raised a hand, then dashed up the stairs, leaving Chell and Gordon in his figurative dust. Chell hesitated momentarily, glancing to Gordon, then signed quickly before moving to follow her companion, following him into his room.

He glanced up as she came in, then returned his attention to the pile of papers on his dresser. Curious, she moved to stand beside him, reading the papers as he flipped through them.

"I thought I was serious." He shrugged, swallowing thickly. "But now, when I think about it, it's…it's stupid. Moronic. I have it good here, with you, and Gordon, and Doctor Lawrence-I have no reason to leave."

She nodded, leaning against the dresser while waiting for him to continue. He didn't appear to be as verbose as usual, but eventually he sighed, preparing to launch into one of his signature rambles.

"But there's still this part of me, some tiny human part, that wants to leave, probably because I'm still afraid, of-of her, and that place, but I just want to get away from here. All this dust and dirt and gritty stuff that gets under your fingernails-is it so bad of me to want to go somewhere…." He hesitated, but her nodding made him plow on. "Somewhere cleaner? I know Latin, and how the body functions-how much do I know? How much don't I know? I could use this, and maybe, just maybe, whatever happened in-in there could help somebody someday, and I need to know what I can do! Even stuck in this useless body, I-"

She held up a hand, gesturing to herself then to him. He quieted momentarily to watch her, sighing as she slowly explained.

"But-But we don't know that I'll be like this forever, I might turn into-into something else! It's happened before, it could happen again!" He glanced at her, eyes wide, then ducked his head in shame. "Why do I do this, why do I-"

She put a finger to his lips, drawing closer to study him. Able to now cup his cheeks, she could feel his trembling, and impulsively drew him into a tight hug, lending him support as he warred with himself. Finally, he relaxed, reciprocating the hug to hold on to her. She glanced up to see his eyes screwed shut, then nodded firmly as he carefully opened them to stare down at her.

"I'm going. I need to. I have to." He clenched his jaw, deciding once and for all, then wavered slightly as he remembered her. "Will you…come with me?"

She paused, releasing him, then nodded. He grinned, hugging her again with a tight squeeze, then nodded hurriedly, speaking as she mouthed the word.

"Yes."


	18. The Eighteenth Step

Wheatley stared down at his hands as the train pulled away from the station, blinking as he adjusted the new glasses on his face and the new wallet in his lap. Chell sat across from him, smartly dressed in a powder blue blouse and loose jeans, and simply smiled as he toyed with the several new accessories, their tickets placed in the middle of the table between them. Wheatley cleared his throat numerous times as the train sped up, fidgeting uncomfortably, and finally set his wallet out on the table, spreading out several photos to nod thoughtfully.

"It was nice of Gordon to do that for us, really-he looks good! Bet it's the first picture he's had taken in years-and Lawrence, too, Doctor Lawrence-looks just like the one on her wall, really." He smiled faintly as he touched her picture, nearly reverent in his nod. "They were nice people."

Chell nodded, letting him reminisce even as the manager stopped by to scan their tickets. Wheatley jumped at the faint beep of the scanner, and watched the manager pass on in silence, eyes wide. "Whoa, um-well. Different. He had a uniform, didn't he, like you had, but less orange. Not that that's bad, mind you, just different. Well." He shrugged, gathering up the photos again, and glanced out the window as streaks of blue flashed by.

Chell watched in faint amusement as the lanky man fiddled with his glasses, the blue flashes of the train tube reflecting off the glass in bright sparks. After a few seconds, the train sped up, causing a subtle lurch in the train's speed. Wheatley nearly fell onto the table, and hurried to adjust, tucking his wallet back into his pocket before clearing his throat. He managed a weak smile, which Chell returned, before sitting up with some alarm.

"Chell?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think I've ever gone this fast in this-in this body, at this-oh god." He staggered to his feet, suddenly pale, and glanced at the ceiling before locating the signs for the nearest latrine. Chell stifled a smile, and watched him disappear into the tiny stall as a young boy across the aisle watched the proceedings.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Shh, Matthew, don't disturb the other people!" His mother chided him, offering an apologetic glance to Chell. The darker woman smiled as she waved the offense away, watching the little boy lean into the aisle.

"But it's just the train. Is he okay?"

"Matthew, I-" The woman sighed, shaking her head. "First time?"

Chell nodded, turning in her seat to face the child. The boy-Matthew-looked from his mother back to Chell, and copied her before leaning on the armrest. "I've been on the train six times! My grandpapa lives in a home in the bigger city. He likes it when I visit."

Chell nodding knowingly, resting against her own armrest, and let her eyes widen in mock shock as he continued. "And he used to build airplanes! Now he just has little ones, but I help him with those. He says he even worked on some war models."

"Now, Matthew, I'm sure the nice lady doesn't want to hear-"

Chell shook her head, reaching toward the mother as she tried to pull the boy away. After a moment of confusion, Chell motioned for Matthew to continue, expressing rapt interest as he illustrated fighter jets zooming through the air with his hands.

"Against all the big beasties-he saw some, when he was in the field, but now you don't see them as much anymore. He says they kept dying, and we didn't have the medicine to save them."

Chell held out her hands as a pretend landscape as Matthew pretended to pilot a war machine, accompanying his 'steps' with clanking noises. Eventually, Wheatley returned from the latrine stall, glancing to Chell worriedly before taking his seat. Although he was silent, his furtive glances told her more than enough, and she apologized to Matthew with a frown before sitting up to attend to Wheatley.

Before he could speak, she pointed outside, pantomiming quickly to convey the idea of speed and his unease with it. He winced, but leaned in, resting against the table. "No, Chell, it's not like that-"

She raised an eyebrow, gesturing to his body before drawing a small circle.

"Yes, closer-I never went this fast on a management rail! And that body didn't have-didn't have a stomach, and I really didn't get headaches, and-Chell, I don't know what's happening, what is this? Why am I so dizzy?"

She sighed, and reached forward to take his hands in hers, slowly lowering them to the table before patting them reassuringly. He swallowed nervously, nodding, and quieted to watch her speak. "So it won't get better until we stop?"

She shook her head, shrugging helplessly, and tensed as he braced himself against the table again.

"God, after everything-I thought I was okay, Chell! I thought-We're leaving, yeah? We're going, we're gone, we're-we're finally escaping in the biggest sense of the word, and I can't stop thinking about the rail!" Lowering his voice to a harsh whisper, he leaned close, forehead nearly touching her own as she bent to listen. "I was there for years, wandering, awake, while all you lot slept, and I just-even when you were running, jumping, sprinting, all that, I just rode along. I just clung to that stupid rail, and that wasn't-I don't have protocols for this! I might actually die, Chell, and I don't know why because of this stupid body-"

Chell rolled her eyes, smacking him lightly on the side of the head before sitting back. Wheatley tensed again, about to protest, but eventually sat back to mimic her as he closed his eyes. "I just-I assumed that with a bigger city, things would get better. But I don't know that for sure. I'm-I'm jumping off the rail."

A painful twinge made Chell shudder, her hands balling into fists as she invariably thought of the rail he mentioned, a bright blue ball risking everything he knew to have her catch him. The picture would have made her smile, had their first attempt gone any better, and she relaxed her shoulders as the pieces clicked. With some effort, she folded the small table out of their way, sitting forward to take Wheatley's head in her hands. His eyes flew open in alarm, but he didn't manage to say anything before she nodded to him. With that nod, and a determined smile, he blinked in recognition, sensing the difference between the tenacious grip she had on his head now and the wary grip she had had on his core then.

"You, ah-you've really caught me a lot, haven't you? Ever since then, yeah? Guess it was unfair of me to really blame you on that one." He managed a faint chuckle as she released him, rubbing his ears where her hands had pressed against his glasses' arms. "Just, um, I don't know if you'll be able to stop yet. I'm still…I'm still-"

She signed quickly to him, nodding, and sat back with a satisfied smile as he shrugged. "This is kind of like that 'hope' stuff you were telling me about, right? We're on a journey, and we don't know what we'll find."

_But we have each other. To catch each other._ She nodded again, settling back into her seat as she closed her eyes, and watched him think over the proposition from between her lashes. It was different, certainly, watching him fidget and mouth the words to himself as he thought, but he soon stilled. Sure, part of it was probably the train-sickness that made him stop moving-but she liked to think that he'd finally come to a conclusion.

What a pair, really, both of them. A continual work in progress. Now if only she could get him to realize that.


	19. The Nineteenth Step

Aside from the initial nausea that plagued Wheatley at the start of their journey, the train ride was mostly uneventful. Chell managed to sleep a bit, taking short catnaps between the various stops, and Wheatley kept himself mostly occupied with a large set of papers he had carried on board with him. The table was folded back out, and various confirmation papers and maps were set up in what appeared to be chronological order. She didn't bother to ask, figuring that when the time was right, he would tell her, but for the moment she simply caught up on her sleep.

As the train finally came to a stop once more, Chell awoke fully to nod to her companion, forced to tug him to his feet as he fumbled with his papers. Once inside the station proper, they were able to retrieve their few suitcases, lightly packed with clothes and some provisions, while Wheatley led the way to an information desk. His maps proved of little use, but soon enough he was able to locate an information port, and was surprised to hear an automated voice sputter:

"Yes, ma'am, sir, or otherwise-how may I help you?"

Wheatley blinked, leaning back as the voice rattled off a list. He glanced to Chell helplessly, searching for words, and stepped back as she waved a hand before the screen.

"Greetings established, ma'am or sir. How may I help you today?"

She motioned for Wheatley to step up, nodding, and watched as he carefully swallowed before glancing at the screen. "Um-do you know the fastest way to District 5? We have residence there, I think, if I got the confirmation number-"

"Transportation is available either by foot, automobile, or autobus. Please choose your preferred method."

"Ah, well, um-let's see, I think foot would work. If you don't mind?"

Chell shook her head, hiding her amusement as Wheatley accepted another print-out map. Leading her into the main terminal of the rail station, he nodded firmly, then stopped short to have her run into him. She frowned, gathering their bags, and moved to berate him, but hesitated as she followed his gaze to a large metallic structure hanging over the terminal. Elegant lines and curves ended in a bulbous tip, and it wasn't hard for her to see the resemblance-a mass of wires gathered into a curving robotic body.

Wheatley's lips moved soundlessly as he tried to make his feet move forward, eyes still locked on the sculpture, and Chell was forced to drag him out of the way of the other passengers before grasping his head again. The distraction was enough to break him out of his shock, and a confused jumble of words came spilling out in his relief, phrases like "not again, not ever again" intermixed with "why is it here?". Finally, he managed to quiet himself, keeping his head down as Chell took the opportunity to lead them forward.

As they emerged into the sunlight again, Chell allowed him to take his own suitcase again, watching as he tried to find the words for his terror. Finally, he shivered, leading her away from the doors before beginning to speak.

"Sorry, about that, really, I didn't think-you know, I'm really not so big on the visual reminders. Didn't think it would hit me like that, really. Strange, that. Granted, I had to sit inside it, but still, doesn't give you a sense of the look of the thing-and it just came out of the blue like that, strange! Who would have thought something like-like that would pop into someone's head as a…as a…as a what was that?"

_Art_. Chell made a face, shrugging disdainfully as she followed him. Wheatley considered the idea, shuddering again, and glanced up at the buildings around them before nodding. He was quick to start a lecture about the city, outlining its major districts and exports before musing on the topic of schools and universities. To her surprise, he seemed relatively well versed on the topic, going so far as to detail a possible class schedule and major.

As they entered a quiet side street, Chell set down her bag, waiting until Wheatley realized that she had stopped. He whirled in surprise, eyes wide, and cocked his head as he faced her. "Chell?"

She folded her arms, the picture of resistance, until he took a step closer. "Is there something wrong?"

She shook her head, letting a small smile grow as he grew progressively more worried. Finally, she held up a hand, gesturing to the streets around them. _Is there somewhere we're going?_

"Oh? Um, well-"

_You've dragged us this far. I assume we had a destination?_

"I had a place, actually-Doctor Lawrence helped me find it. It's not too far away, I promise, and it's close to the university-"

_And were you ever going to tell me this? And do you have a plan for the university?_

"Well-I just didn't-I thought you'd be okay with it, so I made the arrangements-" He flushed suddenly, tensing. "There's two bedrooms, I swear! I set it up so we'd be okay, I didn't think-I mean, everything's how you'd want it, and I think I can make it into a job around here-I promise, it'll be okay. And if I can get into the university, I might be able to find out what I know, and then I can help people-truly help people, for once, just think of it! I could really do this!"

Chell listened to him ramble and frowned, folding her arms again as he continued. Perhaps she was tired. Perhaps she had been walking, and riding, for just a bit too long. Perhaps she was just now realizing how excruciating it would be to travel with a former core.

_And did you once give any consideration to what this might require of me? Did you ever stop to think about what I might want, or need, beyond food and shelter? Did you, in your brilliant core mind, ever consider this stupid human you dragged along with you?_

He actually flinched as she gestured, blinking as he tried to form a defense. "Chell, I was just doing what was needed-I wanted to help, I wanted to do something! I could finally do this by myself, and I wanted to do something for you, instead of having you do something for me, and-"

_And you dragged me into this without any solid plan. Why does this sound familiar?_ She shook her head, storming past him to grab at the map in his hands. _And here I am, doing all the work again._

The dig would have hurt, but she didn't much care as she grabbed at her small bag again before heading off down the street. She could hear Wheatley's harried footsteps as he tried to keep up, mumbling apologies as he walked behind her, and ignored his pleas for her to slow down.

"Chell? Chell, I'm sorry, I just-I just thought it would be a nice surprise, and I didn't want you to have to worry because you've worried for so long, you worry about me all the time, and I wanted to make things good! I wanted to surprise you!"

_Every surprise I've ever had was trying to kill me. Or did you forget that, too?_

He visibly recoiled, trying not to trip. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I forgot-I didn't know that-"

_You aren't sorry. You have never been sorry. Not then, not now, and you're still trying to take control without any kind of apology. _

To her surprise, Wheatley paused, letting her advance down the block before turning a corner. Eventually, he managed to catch up to her again, breathlessly informing her of the next turn before slowing. A plain apartment building was their eventual destination, and as Chell set down her bag, Wheatley stood a few feet away, afraid to approach, and nervously cleared his throat as Chell examined the building.

"I hope it's okay-I mean, it looks clean and there's a lot of room, so I hope it'll be okay, I just…I'm sorry, I don't know…I hope you like it." He trailed off miserably, eyes drifting to the sidewalk as he set down his own bag. "I'm really, really sorry."

She sighed, beckoning to him, and knocked on the door before waiting for him to join her. A short, shoddily-dressed man answered the door, looking them both over before shrugging. "Whatcha need?"

Wheatley carefully raised his hand, finding a piece of paper in his stash before handing it over to the man. "First and last rent payments, should be there-hooked up with a basic account, starter payments, all that. Three See? That should be us, the new-um, the new tenants-"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll take you up-need me to carry-"

"No, no, I think we've got it." Wheatley nodded, hefting the bags before following the man inside. Chell trailed behind them, waiting until the door was opened before depositing her bag inside. Wheatley managed a smile, thanking the man quickly, and took the keys before watching the door fall closed. He nodded to Chell, still grinning, and slowly stilled as she fixed him with a steady glare. His grin faded, and he shuffled backwards before gently setting one set of keys on the ground.

"Those are…those are yours, so you can do what you need to do. I'll just go, and I'll get set up-and I can do all that by myself, so-so I'm sorry, again, I just-I did all this, and I just assumed-stupid bloody ego again, I thought I could do it all, and I didn't think. I didn't think at all." He swallowed thickly, taking his own bag again to gather his papers before turning into the small hallway. Chell watched him go, thinking, and froze as she heard a mumbled 'Moron' from the hallway before a door slowly fell shut.

Despite the twinge of remorse that sounded in her chest, Chell didn't bat an eye as she passed his new door. She may have been hard on him, but her worst fears were only confirmed-he was still the same unfeeling, uncaring egoist he'd always been.

She was a fool to think any different.


	20. The Twentieth Step

The first day was undoubtedly the hardest. Without furniture, a computer, transportation, or any money aside from whatever Wheatley had set aside, Chell was trapped in their new apartment. She wouldn't have minded the inaction, truly, but the fact that he _hadn't told her_ was still appalling. At the very least, she could have done her own research before they came. The fact that he would assume, and assume so much, without even bothering to ask her, stung her sensitive pride, and she was determined to make him pay.

He'd come to realize it, in time. His jubilation at successfully navigating the train station and other obstacles soon faded as he realized that they no longer had easy access to food, and she could hear him muttering to himself in the kitchen as he searched for cutlery. The apartment was sparse, bare of any additions or creature comforts, and the stark cream of the walls irritated her. His mumbling didn't help.

Still, when he knocked on her door after an hour or two, she didn't make any move to answer him, simply laying out her clothes on the large window seat before glancing at the door. He cleared his throat, despite the door between them, and carefully knocked again, belying his true anxiety.

"Chell? Chell, listen, I'm sorry-it was bloody stupid of me to just-to just waltz in here and assume everything would work out. The world doesn't revolve around me. I really should have realized that, coming from-coming from that place, but I just didn't think. I do that a lot. And I promise I'll try to get better, and I'll try to help, and-and this is a nice place, I thought we'd be okay here, and-"

She could recognize a ramble when she heard it, and although she'd usually be content to let him think it out for himself, she was afraid his own mindset would keep him stuck in a rut of remorse and apology until she let him off the hook. Grudgingly, she admitted that the large window offered her a nice view, and the sunlight had warmed the room to a pleasant temperature. Moving to the door, she pulled it open to find him frozen there, blinking behind his new glasses as he registered her presence.

"Oh! Oh, good, you're here, you're still-I guess you heard most of that, then. I just want you to know that I've said sorry before, but I-I don't know what I can do to convince you that I mean it. If you want to go back to Gordon, t-that's okay, but-"

_You can buy dinner._ She nodded to the kitchen, noting a lack of any cooking utensils. _Actually, first you're going to buy me a notebook. _

He perked up at the mention of food, but soon settled into a posture of utter confusion as he watched her emerge. "A-A what? Pen, paper-but you can sign to me, right? I thought that was okay."

She shook her head, studying the main room with some interest before glancing back at him. _The signs aren't perfect. We'll need a system until I can catch up with the local sign language._

"There's an actual language?" He paused, wincing before moving to approach her. "Right, silly of me-that's what the robot at the station was on about! You waved, which was the greeting thing, so-so actually, you could be okay! You wouldn't have to do anything, if-"

_I want to._ She cut him off, brushing past him to study his own room with some amusement. To her surprise, he had let her take the larger of the two, but while hers seemed open and airy, his style of 'organization' had only served to make the room feel even smaller. She dug through his papers, impressed to find him silent as she searched through them, and finally pulled out a map, pointing to a crossroads before handing it to him.

"So that's-let's see, dining, various shops, little things like that-oh, this is dinner? I mean, of course it is. Good plan. You…you actually have a plan, good on you." He nodded as he trailed behind her, absent-mindedly accepting the money she pushed into his hand before folding up the map. "And notebook, yes. And pens! We don't have any pens, might need those-could be important, really. If we ever need to make a list, well, nothing gets better than pens. And paper. Another thing we don't have."

Locking the door behind them as they exited, Chell led Wheatley down the stairs until they reached the sidewalk again, at which point she motioned to the map before gesturing in the direction she assumed was the right one. Wheatley quickly moved to guide her, continuing to ramble as he studied the streets, and even managed to smile at the few people they passed. "Nice place. Nice humans, um-nice people, other people, there's-lots of them, really. Whoof. Should probably get used to that."

She only nodded, finally finding the eclectic bazaar that took up an entire block with brightly colored shops and restaurants. Wheatley's eyes practically lit up at the prospect, and he dashed forward before remembering her. "Well? C'mon, we've got to find you your…your things!"

Taking his hand to prevent any further mad dashes, she nodded, leading him into a quiet office supply store before leaving him to toy with the staplers. With a silent prayer for his safety, she turned down another aisle, finding a small assortment of pens before locating several notebooks. Purchases in hand, she began to truly wander, no goal or aim guiding her footsteps. An errant salesman noted her interested glance, and quickly stepped forward to help her, smiling the company smile as she studied a sleek desk.

"Top of the line, miss, truly one of our better models. Of course, it might be a little big-or small-at two meters long, but we have others you can take a look at. If you're interested, they're right this way…"

She shook her head, motioning to a row of computers and monitors packed along a back shelf. The salesman paused, confused, but headed in their direction, nodding as she studied the packaging. "I don't know what your specifications might be-we have several models ready for demonstration, if you'd like. What is it you're looking for?"

She hesitated, blushing slightly as she realized that her signs only confused him further, and gently rubbed her throat. With a look of apology, she shook her head quickly to indicate 'no', and finally saw him nod in understanding as he raised an eyebrow.

"You know, you should really carry around your card for that-I know not everyone can afford the operations, but if I had your med card, I could help you find something a bit easier." She shrugged, and he quickly returned to his lighthearted sales pitch. "That said, maybe you'd want something a bit more tactile. We do have a nice range of visually operated systems, none of that clunky voice operated software. In fact, if you set up enough commands, you can do almost anything with a simple gesture."

She raised an eyebrow, stifling a smile as he went on to elaborate the glories of a specific system, and let her mind wander as she considered the boxes. Eventually, the salesman left, and she glanced over the models before moving to find Wheatley again. Gesture- and touch-based systems obviously appealed to her, but getting that close to a system that was smarter than her was still a frightening prospect. Did they have similar systems in the more municipal areas, for those of her…disability? Of course, they'd have to have audio- and video-based systems for the deaf and blind, but she didn't know if there was a great enough market for people 'like her' to necessitate a large amount of gesture-based interaction.

Locating Wheatley where she had left him, she helped him pull a staple out of his finger, enduring his repeated thanks as she handed him her purchases. He froze, quickly explaining that he had no money, but she simply gestured to the bundle he had stuffed into his pocket as they had left. His embarrassment was enough to keep him quiet as they checked out, and as they emerged back into the main area of the strange marketplace, she took the notebook to begin writing quickly.

Wheatley watched in slight awe as she rapidly reacquainted herself with the workings of a pen and paper, and had to force himself to keep an eye on the people around them in order to walk in a straight line. With her usual dexterity, she was able to write and walk at the same time, using him as a touchstone to wander the shopping center. He eventually ducked into a corner to speak to her, clearing his throat to speak, but she quickly took the map again to shove the notebook at him.

"Wait, Chell, I just wanted-"

She pointed to the notebook sharply, studying the map again as she leaned against a wall.

"Fine, fine, let's take a look. Um-yes, food. That would be important. And more paper, and a bed-oh, bloody hell, I forgot about beds. So beds. And toilet paper. And-Chell?"

She looked up at him for a moment, rolling her eyes, and waved off his objections before circling two spots on the map. He quickly reviewed the rest of her shopping list and confirmed the necessity of each item, and glanced up to find the skylights above them slowly growing darker. "And now, food. No more bossing around, lady, I found us a place. I mean, feel free to veto it, but it looked quiet. So c'mon."

This time she let him lead the way back to a small sandwich shop, seating herself as he ordered at the counter. He returned with two bowls of soup, managing to carry them over with little difficulty, and finally relaxed as he took his first bite. "Mhm. Definitely have to get more food. I didn't tell you, but there is an ice box thing at the apartment so-lots of food for that. I didn't-I didn't think of beds, so sorry, but I guess…" He trailed off, lost in his own thoughts, and sighed as she began to write on a new page. "We agreed not to talk about 'that place', I know that, and you've kept to that pretty good. Really well, actually, better than me. But everything I do just keeps going back to that, and I keep breaking our agreement and-I'm sorry for that, too, I suppose. I just don't think I can _not_ talk about it, and I keep making decisions and bossing you around and-"

She held up a hand, pushing the notebook over to him as she began to eat. Wheatley managed to quiet as he read, tasting his own soup again, and uncomfortably sat back before shrugging.

"Well, um-good, I guess. Thanks for that. So we're okay with-with the Aperture place, with me…with me. We're okay with that."

Chell nodded, motioning for him to continue reading.

"Oh-Oh, well, I'm glad you like it here, even if I was an idiot about the whole thing-yes, yes, I'm reading! I just-oh. Hm." He quieted as he read again, covering his mouth with one hand as he processed. "I am sorry I didn't ask you. I didn't realize what all this would mean. And you do know what we need better than I do, and I guess-I sort of had my head in the clouds about the whole thing. But I promise, there's at least enough money for the both of us to survive for a while. And if we find a library, we can send messages to Gordon or Doctor Lawrence."

Chell smiled warmly, glad to hear him using the plural 'we' once more, and pointed again to the last sentence. Wheatley swallowed, tensing, but echoed her smile with a grin of his own before pushing the notebook back.

"'I forgive you.' It's very much like you. Direct. To the point. Unlike me." He nodded, finishing his soup, and sighed in contentment before watching the people around them. "This is it, isn't it. This is the city. This is what I wanted for so long, other people and other sights and sounds-it's brilliant. You're brilliant. You came with." He stood to dispose of their bowls, letting her gather her pen and notebook again, and hesitated for a moment before taking her free hand. "Now let's go out there and survive."


End file.
